I climbed the high ground up through Pomeroy's field
Beyond where grass to het and bracken yield
The birds piped in the wood at Claramore
And singing lark towards heaven's gate did soar.
On patch of soft green het I lay me down
On slopes of Clara west of Millstreet Town
Duhallow all around me in her green
And miles of splendid country to be seen.
Some twenty miles of country I could see
From Cullen to Rathmore to Knocknagree
The rugged country west the Paps of Shrone
And Caherbarnagh and her face of stone.
An hour or two of peace I did enjoy
The sun was shining in the summer sky,
The voice of birds and sheep the only sound
And Nature's peace was everywhere around.
A kookaburra woke me after five
He laughed on wattle by my neighbour's drive
And I'd been back home if only in a dream
Though real enough to me it then did seem.
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