Back There In Old Duhallow

Back there in old Duhallow the Summer nears her close
And the browness of Nature's decay on the petals of the rose
And the big bird song of the tiny brown wren echoes in the hedgerow
In the quietness of the morning where the old Blackwater flow
Through Duhallow on towards Mallow babbling eternally
Through the old fields and by hedges on the long journey to the sea,
Back there in old Duhallow in the cloudy August sky
One can hear the swallows chirping as above the fields they fly
Within weeks they will be leaving for the warm lands far away
From the place they will return to where they first saw light of day,
Autumn days near to Duhallow Summer is long past her prime
And the colours of the Season will inspire the poets to rhyme
And the redwings from the Northlands will soon answer Nature's call
And wing their way to Duhallow in the dying days of the Fall.