Up the old Finnow river in the gray of the dawn
Against the strong currents the salmon swim up to spawn
The overnight frost leave the fields looking gray
In Duhallow in November at the breaking of day.

The cold winds of late Fall have left the hedgerows looking bare
And the grayness of your breath floats in the chilly air
And at least four long months till the first signs of the Spring
When the wildering flowers bloom and the nesting birds sing.

The redwings have returned from their woods far away
And in the farm yard sheds cattle are bellowing for hay
The stream from the foothills bank high downhill flow
And the Boggeragh mountains wear their hats of snow.

The song of the chaffinch one is not likely to hear
In November in Duhallow in the late Fall of the year
And blackbird scrape in the leaf litter by the bare hedgerow
And through the empty fields the cold north winds blow.