In The Fields Of Lisnaboy

In fancy the sweet scent of hay in July
Comes to me from the meadows of old Lisnaboy
And grasshoppers chirp in the fields all the day
Fond memories of boyhood do not fade away.

And the little stream that to the Araglen flow
It babbles along by the leafy hedgerow
And the sunny sky it is full of the sound
Of nectar gathering honey bees buzzing around.

In the heart of the ageing man the boy remain
And in fancy I walk in the old fields again
And the swallows who chase after insects that fly
Are chirping with pleasure all day in the sky.

Of the basic things of Nature i was getting to know
In the fields of Lisnaboy five decades ago
The tiny brown bird with the bigger bird's song
The wren in the hedgerow he sang all day long.

Each day brings me nearer to my use by date
And like everyone else time for me does not wait
But pleasant memories of the sweet scent of hay
Come to me from Summer meadows far away.

by Francis Duggan

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