In Green Old Ballydaly

In green old Ballydaly between Millstreet and Rathmore
Thousands of miles north of here far inland from the ocean shore
Above the rushy field by the river the lark carols as upwards he fly
And Nature in all of her splendour on a morning in July.

In green old Ballydaly I fancy I can see
Cock robin with the sunshine on his red breast on a high branch of leafy tree
And I can hear him singing one cannot mistake his song
The same song his grandfather sung how could one get it wrong.

Months after Caherbarnagh has lost his hat of snow
The shy cock pheasant cucking in the rank grass by the hedgerow
The hen bird raise their chickens with her he does not stay
To mate with her the only part in fatherhood he play.

In the fields near Ballydaly when Summer was in her prime
As a young man long years ago I was inspired to rhyme
By the beauty all around me young birds chirped in the hedgerow
But many Seasons have passed since then for that was long ago.

In green old Ballydaly north of here and far away
The pink breasted chaffinch is singing at the dawning of the day
And the sun above the horizon is rising rosy red
A sign of warm weather and a sunny day ahead.