In The Fields Of Carriganimma Poem by Francis Duggan

In the fields of Carriganimma the gorse has lost it's gold
And last Spring's lamb has fully grown and October getting old
And dunnock in the windblown hedge refuse to chirp and sing
And Winter nearing every day and distant seems the Spring.

And few wildflowers by the main road from Millstreet to Macroom
And in the village gardens there are no signs of bloom
And Autumn leaves in wind and rain to Mother Earth drift down
And trees so green a few weeks back are turning russet brown.

The Carriganimma house wife she cooks her husband's tea
He should be home by 6 p.m. he works in Cork City
Their only child left home last year and she now lives far away
In distant California in the U.S of A.

like many more in the village their daughter did not stay
She followed oportunity to work for higher pay
But she will visit home next Spring for a month or more she say
When the fields of Carriganimma scent of the blooms of May.

In the fields of Carriganimma the stream in flood bank high
And it has rained since mid morning and dark clouds in the sky
And dunnock in the windblown hedge refuse to chirp and sing
And Winter nearing every day and distant seems the Spring.