By Northern Hills

The cattle in farm sheds are bellowing for silage or hay
By northern hills in the cold gray dawn of the day
And frost in the fields by the ditch and hedgerow
In weather quite cold quite cold enough for to snow.

In bare fields the chirps of the migrant redwings one does hear
They fly to breed to their northern home when the Spring days are near
In late January seven weeks from the Northern Spring
The hungry birds never in mood for to sing

And Spring in the North is a lovely time of year
When the grass grows and billions of flowers in the old fields appear.
And the swallows back home to breed from warm Lands faraway
When the hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May.