At Clarabeg

At Clarabeg in the high fields by the mountain
The black faced lambs around their mothers play
And rain at times persistent fall in drizzle
At mid morning of an early April day.

The gray crow cawing in the grove by the farmyard
And skylark piping in the cloudy sky
Most other birds sing on bush, tree and hedgerow
But the lark can only carol as he fly.

The daisies they have come back to the high fields
In Spring their numbers seem to multiply
One of the first to bloom in Clarabeg by the mountains
And usually the last wildflowers to die.

To Clarabeg the Spring does not come early
And growth is at it's prime towards the end of May
And the cuckoo's voice echoes by the mountains
And the swallows have returned from far away.

At Clarabeg by the mountains of Duhallow
The cock robin proclaims his territory
The drizzling rain doesn't seem to cause him bother
As he pipes on high branch of silver birch tree.

And at Clarabeg which means small Clara mountain
In the high country west of Millstreet Town
The little larks in the rain clouds are singing
And the black faced lambs the hills run up and down.