In May By The Mountains

The cock pheasant cucks where the rank rushes grow
And in the cool of the dawn in grove and on hedgerow
The songbirds are singing to greet the new day
And everywhere lush and green in the prime of the May,
In the quiet of the morning at this time of the year
The song of the curlew so flute like and clear
In the bogland they nest on the bracken clad ground
And their heavily blotched eggs are quite hard to be found,
In May by the mountains from here far away
The swallows fly over the old fields all day
And amongst the river rapids one cannot get him wrong
The dark brown white breasted dipper is singing his song
And the cattle contented chew their cud at ease
In the field by the hill in the cool morning breeze.