Where The Rivers Meet

The lark upwards fly from the rushes to sing in the gray morning sky And gray crow disliked by sheep farmers caws on a lone poplar nearby And spring has brought all of her green beauty to Claraghatlea west of Millstreet To the old rushy fields by the railway the quiet place where the rivers meet. Where the Cails flows into the Finnow and into a bigger river grow And journey through Dooneen and Drishane and into the Blackwater flow Amongst the water reeds the moorhen on her nest is sitting quite safe in her shady retreat And in the rank grass the pheasant is crowing in field by where the rivers meet. In leafy groves and on the green hedgerows that border fields by Millstreet Town The songbirds are whistling and singing at twilight as the sun goes down And vixen for her cubs out hunting 'a young rabbit would be nice to eat' And darkness it slowly envelopes the fields by where the rivers meet. The spring she has come to Duhallow and everywhere looking so green And snowdrops and primroses blooming on the verges along the bohreen And cow to her new born calf lowing he totters on unsteady feet Amongst the rank grass and the rushes in field by where the rivers meet.