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Old

On The Last Time I Saw Caherbarnagh

Posted Tuesday 15th September 2009 at 02:53 by Francis Duggan
On the last time I saw Caherbarnagh the weather was windy and cold
In the early days of December and the old year was getting quite old
Dark clouds hung above Gortavehy it looked like more rain on the way
And frost overnight on the high ground had left the old fields looking gray.

The last time I saw Caherbarnagh it was a cold wintery day
And in the galvanize shed in the farmyard the cattle were bellowing for hay
The stream from the foot of the mountain...
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Old

April Far Away

Posted Monday 14th September 2009 at 02:29 by Francis Duggan
On the mossy ditch along the old bohreen
Wildflowers in their thousands are now to be seen
Bluebells and primroses and snowdrops in white
Bloom after the rains in the warm Spring sunlight.

Dandelions, buttercups and daisies in April are never rare
In the lush green fields they are seen everywhere
And the pink breasted bullfinch singing on the alder tree
Amidst all the greenery quite easy to see.

The wild birds are nesting and...
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Old

The Laughing Kookaburras

Posted Monday 14th September 2009 at 02:26 by Francis Duggan
In the wooded park overlooking the town
At twilight of evening just before sundown
The kookaburras raucous laughter echoes loud and clear
Their familiar voices one often does hear
As kingfishers the largest of their family
Though kookaburras fishing one never do see
They don't dive into water small fish to pursue
As the smaller kingfishers than them always do,
On a big tree at the edge of their borders they always give tongue
And they...
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Old

The Singing Bushlarks

Posted Monday 14th September 2009 at 02:22 by Francis Duggan
Like the skylarks the bushlarks to sing have to fly
In Spring and in Summer they sing in the sky
They have a sweet tinkle to their beautiful song
When you hear them sing once you will not get them wrong.

They vary in colouring from dark, gray to red
To match the soil colours of them it is said
As camouflage from aerial birds of prey
To provide security for her children that is Nature's way.

They are birds of the grasslands never...
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Old

The Hopkins River

Posted Monday 14th September 2009 at 02:19 by Francis Duggan
Centuries before the black people to this land came
An unknown Country that did not have a name
The river now known as the Hopkins through the scrublands did flow
And that is going back many centuries ago.

The dinosaurs came at the twilight of the day
For to slake their thirst at the quiet water-way
And though the dinosaurs from the World are forever gone
The old Hopkins river keeps babbling on.

Through the flat brown Countryside...
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