On The Gneeves Windmills

The Gneeves I remember was a quiet old bog In cool and damp weather a place of gray fog In Summer there men shlauned out dark peat for to dry For to warm their homes when Winter winds howled in the sky But going by news from Duhallow far away Gneeves is a different bogland today The huge blades on the wind-mills whirring around Creating loud noise on the once quiet high ground. Though experts on such have been known to disagree For wildlife wind farms not a good idea Those blades spinning in the wind birds have been known to kill Will many feathered flyers die on Gneeves hill? How many skylarks will survive for to sing In the sky o'er Gneeves for to welcome the Spring? An environmentally friendly form of energy many are known to say But for all forms of electricity some price to pay. It is a known fact and facts never lie That in the spinning blades of the wind-mills many birds do die But then suppose everyone does look at things differently And what seems good to you may not be so to me.