In Matty Owens Bog

The pipe of the curlew I fancy I hear In Matty Owens bog many miles north of here In the calm of a June evening melodious and clear In Summer a beautiful time of year By the watery bog hole with her blotched eggs neath her breast Cloaked by the rank rushes his quiet wife sits on her nest The curlews of the future to life she will bring The beauty of Nature is an amazing thing. The pink breasted bullfinch so lovely to see Perched on a high branch of a silver birch tree One that one could stand and admire all day long The beautiful bird with an ordinary song. In the river pool the moorhen utters her shrill warning cry To her young to alert them of danger nearby Three tiny dark chicks with red faces mum's warning does heed And swim into cover to hide in the reed. Above Matty Owens bog in the still of the night The male snipe with his tail in the Summer moonlight He proclaims his territory in the night sky And drums out a warning to other male snipe as he fly.