In The Rushy Fields Of Millstreet Poem by Francis Duggan

The skylark o'er the rushy field carolled as he did fly
And singing whilst ascending just a small speck in the sky
Till in the gray foamy looking cumulus he seemed to disappear
The little bird had vanished though his music I did hear.

The moorhen in the river where the water reeds grew tall
She called to her dark offsprings who grew silent at her call
As if they knew her call meant there's an enemy nearby
Their secret of survival to be secretive and shy.

At the secrecy of Nature my wonder it did grow
Still Nature's well kept secrets so few if any know
And things have not changed that much since all of those years ago
In the rushy fields of Millstreet where the Finnow waters flow.

In the rushy fields of Millstreet there is a young boy today
And he hears the skylark singing where the Finnow winds it's way
Slowly on towards the Blackwater on it's journey to the sea
And his eyes grow wide with wonder at the things he hear and see.

And in Nature's lush green garden beauty every where around
And he hears the baby pipits though their nest he has not found
And he's got to know the dipper by his brief and scratchy song
Where the Finnow on it's journey it goes babbling along.

The boy so full of wonder he may yet live far away
From the places he loved dearly but his memories with him stay
Of the wildborn and shy creatures that he tried to get to know
In the rushy fields of Millstreet where the Finnow waters flow.