You Wrote How Dublin Made You

You wrote how Dublin made you now that seems fair enough
But when you put down rural Ireland I find that a bit rough
And there's nothing special about Dublin it is just another Town
And when you put down rural Ireland you've put all of Ireland down.

You show no love for Connacht or places of the west
The stone fields or the woodlands where pipit and robin nest
But Connacht lives without you 'The west is still awake'
The snipe nests in the moorland, the moorhen by the lake.

You show no love for Nature the green fields of the south
The upland rill where heron stalk the little mountain trout
How can you love your country if you do not love her land
And the ways of her rural people you fail to understand?

You wrote how Dublin made you and not the poteen still
And the mountain of the woodcock to you the hungry hill
But have you ever listened to the skylark pipe above the mountain brow
Or have you listened to the chaffinch singing on the leafy bough?.

You say how Dublin made you at least that's what you wrote
But you have no eye for Nature though you've won fame as a poet
And rural Ireland does not need you without you it will live on
And the moorland and the meadow will be there when you are gone.