By Mushera Hill

By Mushera hill six miles from Millstreet Town
I worked in all weather cutting tall pine trees down
For to earn a living an easier way
Than working in a wood on a cold Winter's day.

But Spring it was nice by the old bracken hill
With the wildflowers in bloom by the clear babbling rill
And nesting birds sung in the wood and hedgerow
On looking back how fast two decades did go.

The red squirrels they were so lovely to see
As they climbed up the trunk and jumped from tree to tree
And the bullfinch he piped in the wind and the rain
In fancy I visit the old hill again.

It might seem a hard way for to earn one's pay
But in the prime of Spring in the green month of May
The song thrush with brown spots around his grey breast
Sung whilst his wife covered her eggs in her nest.

By Mushera hill far north as the crow fly
I worked in all weather the wet and the dry
Two decades ago in the distant past
And only the memories do seem to last

Of a life I knew some two decades ago
When I worked in the wood where the coarse bracken grow
By Mushera mountain but life it goes on
And the present only matter the past it is gone.