The familiar sounds made by the male snipe above the bog at night
With wings and tail he makes a goat like sound whilst in his courtship flight
In Spring and early Summer him I often did hear
But that was many years ago and many miles from here.

Yet the memories came with me from many miles away
And though I'm not any wiser the years have left me gray
But in my flights of fancy in the calm evening sky
The whirring wings of the male snipe are echoing as he fly.

The memories still with me from all of those years ago
And I have not forgotten the life I used to know
In Spring the dipper with the white breast and feathers of darkish brown
On a rock in the river whilst singing bobbed his head up and down.

The memories came with me and with me they remain
And in fancy I do visit the distant fields again
And I hear the robin singing in the old grove by the rill
That babbles to the river from it's birthplace by the hill.

The memories came with me of old fields lush and green
Of long gone Springs and Summers on the ditch of the bohreen
The bluebells in their bright blues and primroses in their gold
When nesting birds were singing were lovely to behold.