The Cold Winds Of January

Last night in my dreams I did hear the winds roar
Above the old high fields of far Claramore
A cold Winter moon crept behind clouds to hide
And on the bleak hillside the hungry fox cried
And a bird so distinctive even in his wild cry
The screech of the barn owl echoed in the sky
A Winter's night in January by old Clara hill
The howling of the wind drowned out the babble of the rill
That towards the big river downland ever does flow
Through many a field and by many a hedgerow
Old jack frost of January is in the cold air
And the hedgerows and deciduous trees of their foliage are bare
And the cold winds of January in the dead of night roar
Above the old bare fields of high Claramore.