Mushera Dawn

The skylark shakes the dew drops from her wings
And upwards from the heather fly
And pleasant are the notes she sing
In brightening morning sky

And songbirds pipe to greet the dawn
In the green groves of Tooreenbawn
And joyful ring the twittering notes
Of Mushera's wild feathered poets.

And on the slopes of Mushera hill
The young lamb run to mother's call
And from her udder drink his fill
And breakfast suck taste best of all.

And in pools of the meandering stream
That purls it's way through rush fields green
The cunning little mountain trout
Jump for fly with hungry mouth

And flowers dew laden after night
A sight of beauty to behold
The yellow dandelion and daisy white
And buttercups with petals gold.

Fresh pure breath of mountain air
In the dawning of the day
Here in Mushera valley green and fair
In this the merry month of May.