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.

by Francis Duggan

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