The weather for April is windy, wet and poor
But the nesting birds singing in old Annagloor
And the old fields resplendent in their Nature's flowers
And the grass lush and green from the recent Spring showers
The unmistakeable loud caw of the gray hooded crow
And the moorhen calls to her young where the Cails waters flow
By ditches bordered by trees and by many a hedgerow
And through very old fields where rank rushes grow
April in Annagloor in the prime of the Spring
In the gray of the dawn the birds whistle and sing
The dark barn swallows they chirp as they fly
As the pale sun peeps through the low clouds of the sky
And buttercups bloom on the banks of the rill
That babbles downland from the field by the hill.
But the nesting birds singing in old Annagloor
And the old fields resplendent in their Nature's flowers
And the grass lush and green from the recent Spring showers
The unmistakeable loud caw of the gray hooded crow
And the moorhen calls to her young where the Cails waters flow
By ditches bordered by trees and by many a hedgerow
And through very old fields where rank rushes grow
April in Annagloor in the prime of the Spring
In the gray of the dawn the birds whistle and sing
The dark barn swallows they chirp as they fly
As the pale sun peeps through the low clouds of the sky
And buttercups bloom on the banks of the rill
That babbles downland from the field by the hill.
