Where The Araglen Flows To the Blackwater

Where the Araglen flows to the Blackwater the birds sing at the dawn of the day
And the Summer approaching Duhallow on the last day of Spring and of May
A pale sun low in the horizon the nestling birds chirp in their nest
And the hare has retired to the rushes under cover by day she does rest
The cows with their fast growing calves in the lush fields resplendent in their Nature's flowers
The countryside is at it's greenest as a result of recent heavy showers
The jackdaws drawing sticks to their nest on the chimney and in the rank rushes by the hedgerow
The male pheasant his wings is clapping and he stretch his neck and cuck and crow
The dipper he sings in the Araglen his scratchy notes in fancy I hear
And the beautiful song of the song thrush melodious and pleasant and clear
And the wren is singing on the hedgerow the brown tiny one with the big bird song
His voice it cannot be mistaken from once heard you cannot get it wrong
Where the Araglen babbles on it's way to the Blackwater the great river that flows to the sea
The beauty I knew as a young man is embedded in my memory.