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In The Damp Rushy Fields

In the damp rushy fields near the Town of Millstreet
Where the Cails from Kippagh and the Finnow does meet
I grew to love Nature when I was a boy
And learning about her I still do enjoy
My thoughts often go to a far away Spring
When the nesting songbirds do whistle and sing
And hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
Such beautiful scenes in the memory to stay
Of dark swallows chasing flying insects in the gray sky
And brown meadow pipit singing as he fly
Above the rank rushes and cock pheasant crow
Hidden in the high grass near where the Cails flow
Into the Finnow and journey on down
To join the Blackwater close to Millstreet Town.

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