High above the lake where the Cails waters rise
The lark in the May towards the cloud World flies
Like a musical speck in the sky he does sing
Proclaiming his territory in latter Spring.
The hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms white to gray
When wildflowers are in bloom in high fields far away
And nesting songbirds sing for to greet the day
In Kippagh by the hills in the prime of the May.
Were I a poet of such beauty I would write
A poem for lovers of poetry for to read and recite
When the nesting wild birds of Nature are on song
Even sight unseen by their voices one cannot get them wrong.
In fancy I'm back in the old fields again
And Kippagh is looking lusher and greener after recent rain
And the dipper is singing where the Cails waters flow
Inland from the bracken by ditch and hedgerow.
The lark in the May towards the cloud World flies
Like a musical speck in the sky he does sing
Proclaiming his territory in latter Spring.
The hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms white to gray
When wildflowers are in bloom in high fields far away
And nesting songbirds sing for to greet the day
In Kippagh by the hills in the prime of the May.
Were I a poet of such beauty I would write
A poem for lovers of poetry for to read and recite
When the nesting wild birds of Nature are on song
Even sight unseen by their voices one cannot get them wrong.
In fancy I'm back in the old fields again
And Kippagh is looking lusher and greener after recent rain
And the dipper is singing where the Cails waters flow
Inland from the bracken by ditch and hedgerow.
