Far North Of Here In Duhallow

Far north of here in Duhallow where the mighty Blackwater flow
Old Clara hill in Millstreet wears his Christmas hat of snow
And robins and sparrows by the back doors are pecking crumbs of bread
To maintain their physical condidtion for the cold bleak months ahead.

Far north of here in Duhallow on low branch of leafless tree
The song thrush is perched silent a forlorn sight is he
Without a territory to defend his song he will not sing
And many a cold and wet week yet before the birth of Spring.

Far north of here in Duhallow the frosted fields look gray and hard
And the cows for fodder bellow in the shed in farmer's yard
The colder weather makes them hungrier and more fodder they do eat
In Winter in my old Townland by my Hometown of Millstreet.

On the wide beach at Inverloch the bronzed sun worshippers in the sunshine lay
So different from Duhallow far north and far away
And o'er the coastal paddock the swallows chirp and fly
And not a rain cloud to be seen in the sunny southern sky.

Far north of here in Duhallow in the old fields by the hill
The wild flowers of Mother Nature not blooming by the rill
And the migrant redwing thrushes search for snails and worms by hedgerow
And the cold winds of December down from Caherbarnagh blow.