The Blackwater At Night

On a tall beech tree the black and gray hooded crow
Caws in the gloaming where the Blackwater flow
Through the fields of Duhallow babbling on down
Through that old quiet countryside towards Mallow Town.

The shades of night silently creeps above the ground
And darken the countryside for miles around
The cry of the barn owl one cannot mistake
He hunts in the fields till the dawn of daybreak.

The fields of Duhallow quiet in the moonlight
Where the Blackwater river babbles on through the night
The river that has to be as old as time
That has inspired writers to story and rhyme.

Memories of a September night twenty one years ago
Of the moonlit fields where the Blackwater flow
Since then eighty four Seasons have come and gone
But the famous old waterway keeps babbling on.