Memories Of Gneeves

The blackbird by the bare hedgerow scratch for slugs under the dead leaves By the narrow bog road that leads up to Gneeves And the cold winds of February with a Wintery chill Blow up the high fields and across the bog hill But I do recall Gneeves bogland in Spring When the little brown lark o'er the bracken did sing A musical speck in the gray morning sky Till he sang out of sight as in the clouds he did fly The shlaun men shlauned the soggy dark brown peat for those with pikes to spread around For to dry out in the Summer on the higher ground For fuel to warm their homes when the Winter winds blow In weather wet and windy cold enough for to snow In Spring in Gneeves the sheep bleat all day long And above the brown bogland the lark is on song.