On Hearing A Blackbird Singing

A gold billed blackbird flutes on blackwood tree From upper branch his music floating down I heard his kin bird many years ago On trees and hedgerows west of Millstreet Town. I thought that nostalgia from me was forever gone But blackbird's voice still takes me far away To distant Land and places of boyhood And the small woods of northern Claraghatlea. I walk through distant fields in distant years The hawthorn wears her blossoms of the May The birds are singing as the sun goes down A perfect ending to a perfect day. The dipper singing in the quiet stream The dunnock chirping in the green hedgerow The blackbird's voice has took me far away Across the miles and to the long ago. I see the badger as he leaves his sett He ventures out in twilight of the day He slowly shuffles down his well worn path In whitened face and coat of brown to gray. The blackbird fluting on the blackwood tree From upper branch his music floating down And his magic notes keep luring me away To fields and groves just west of Millstreet Town.