Those Ever Pleasant Memories

In green hedgerows of Flintfield songbirds pipe all the day And countless wildflowers burst to bloom in meadows far away And from the deep Blackwater pools trout jump to catch the fly And butterflies flit to and fro across the sunny sky. In rushy meads by Clara hill the meadow pipits sing And skylark in the heavens lilt flushed with the joys of spring And vixen with rabbit in mouth trots down the gorsy glen To share her kill with fast growing cubs outside her hidden den. In dreams i see the otters play on Finnow's green, green bank And watch the startled brown hare bolt from out the scutch grass rank And hear on spring time evenings the strange, strange goat like bleats That long billed snipe make with his wings o'er rush fields of Millstreet. And though i awake to sound of passing train and the honk of motor horn Many thousand of miles from Millstreet and the vale where i was born Those ever pleasant memories still linger in my mind Of stream and mead and heather hill and Ireland's wild born kind.