Memories Of Gneeves

The blackbird by the bare hedgerow scratch for slugs under the dead leaves
By the narrow bog road that leads up to Gneeves
And the cold winds of February with a Wintery chill
Blow up the high fields and across the bog hill
But I do recall Gneeves bogland in Spring
When the little brown lark o'er the bracken did sing
A musical speck in the gray morning sky
Till he sang out of sight as in the clouds he did fly
The shlaun men shlauned the soggy dark brown peat for those with pikes to spread around
For to dry out in the Summer on the higher ground
For fuel to warm their homes when the Winter winds blow
In weather wet and windy cold enough for to snow
In Spring in Gneeves the sheep bleat all day long
And above the brown bogland the lark is on song.