A Song Of Annagloor Poem by Francis Duggan

In May Winter was only a memory and the curlew was back on the moor
And greenery had come to the hedgerows and pipits piped in Annagloor
And dipper sang out in the river and hawthorn wore blooms white as snow
And over the dappled green meadows the dark swallows winged to and fro.

The cattle are out on lush pasture, the sheep have climbed high up the hill
And the pheasant cuck in rushy valley and buttercups bloom by the rill
And in the groves and leafy woodlands the finches pipe all through the day
And I fancy I hear the small dunnock though time finds me further away

From the glens and the mountains and valleys from Land where my manhood took root
Still memories in floods coming to me of places where I spent my youth
Away from the woodlands and rivers, away from the lakes and the moor
Away far away from Duhallow and from the fields of Annagloor.

I stand at the foot of the mountain and take in the beauty around
And the skylark is singing above me her nest cloaked in bracken clad ground
Duhallow is looking resplendent as peaceful and green as before
And birds flushed with joy of the Season sing in the woods of Claramore.

The migrant may wander the World and from his Homeland live far away
But the mountains and valleys he once knew are with him and in his heart stay
And thoughts of the past make me happy though I was financially poor
When Winter was only a memory and pipits piped in Annagloor.