Spring In Duhallow

In Spring perhaps I never more will hear the songbirds at dawn Sing on the green hedgerows of old Tooreenbawn And see the hawthorns in their white blooms of May I've not seen the old Land for many a day. The robin singing in the Spring wind and rain As a memory with me now only remain And the song of the dipper I fancy I hear I've not been in Duhallow for twenty and one year. Of green old Duhallow I've penned many a rhyme But twenty one years seems a very long time One might say a quarter of the human life span The baby back then is now a full grown man. The rill from the foothill to the river flow And in the rank rushes the shy cock pheasant crow Whilst his plainer brown mate sits on her grass nest With her clutch of green eggs warm beneath her breast.