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Old

Nature's Garden Far Away

Posted Thursday 18th June 2009 at 08:11 by Francis Duggan
Those old feelings of nostalgia are stirred up by the beer
Where the rapids of the river run the dipper's song I hear
And the chaffinch he is singing in the grove beside the rill
And the skylark he is carolling above the bracken hill.

I visualize the blackbird's nest of clay and mosses made
And I see three green brown spotted eggs the female bird has laid
And the robin he is singing on the flowering horse chestnut tree
And the fields are full...
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Old

A Warm August Day In Old Duhallow

Posted Thursday 18th June 2009 at 08:02 by Francis Duggan
A warm August day in old Duhallow far north of here and miles away
And swallows high o'er sunlit meadows scenting sweetly of mown hay
And songbirds silent on the hedgerows in Summer you seldom hear them sing
They always pipe their finest in the prime months of the Spring.

A warm day in August in the fields of Knocknagree
And old gray faced rook is cawing on high branch of elm tree
And the magpie he is chattering as into the grove he fly
From...
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Old

The Voices Come To Me From Long Ago

Posted Thursday 18th June 2009 at 07:57 by Francis Duggan
The voices come to me from long ago
Of Nature's children that I used to know
I hear them sing on hedge and tree and bush
The robin and the blackbird and the thrush.

From April on the fields are lush and green
And wild flowers in their billions to be seen
And lambs bleat in the field beside the hill
And the dipper he is singing in the rill.

The redwings have gone home to far away
And the hawthorns cloaked in their white...
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Old

The Blackbird's Song

Posted Wednesday 17th June 2009 at 02:17 by Francis Duggan
The blackbird's song it takes me far away
To northern Land and to a distant day
His kin birds sang all day until sundown
In leafy groves just out of Millstreet Town.

A blackbird piping on a blackwood tree
Awake the nostalgic memories in me
Again I walk the lush green fields in Spring
And hear the wild birds on the hedgerows sing.

Bluebells bloom by the hedge by the bohreen
And cock pheasant often heard though seldom seen...
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Old

A Wet August Day In Millstreet

Posted Wednesday 17th June 2009 at 02:13 by Francis Duggan
From Claramore the rill in flood flow brown
Through Claraghatlea a mile from Millstreet Town
And dark to gray rain clouds across the sky
Tell that more heavy showers of rain are nigh.

You know that bird to whom the voice belong
When you hear the dipper sing his scratchy song
He pipe his loudest when the flood is high
And the wet conditions he seem to enjoy.

The last thing that the farmer needs is rain
A hungry Winter...
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