On Hearing A Blackbird Singing

A gold billed blackbird flutes on blackwood tree
From upper branch his music floating down
I heard his kin bird many years ago
On trees and hedgerows west of Millstreet Town.

I thought that nostalgia from me was forever gone
But blackbird's voice still takes me far away
To distant land and places of boyhood
And the small woods of northern Claraghatlea.

I walk through distant fields in distant years
The hawthorn wears her blossoms of the May
The birds are singing as the sun go down
A perfect ending to a perfect day.

The dipper singing in the quiet stream
The dunnock chirping in the green hedgerow
The blackbird's voice has took me far away
Across the miles and to the long ago.

I see the badger as he leaves his sett
He ventures out in twilight of the day
He slowly shuffles down his well worn path
In whitened face and coat of brown to gray.

The blackbird fluting on the blackwood tree
From upper branch his music floating down
And his magic notes keep luring me away
To fields and groves just west of Millstreet Town.