And the scratchy notes of the dipper are echoing in the stream
And the countryside has never looked so lush and green or so at least ‘twould seem.
In their nest in the hedgerow nestlings are crying for food
And the parent birds are busy feeding their hungry brood
And the swallows o’er the meadows they twitter as they fly
And the airborne lark is carolling where the clouds go drifting by.
The hawthorns look resplendent cloaked in their white flowers of May
And after a brief sun shower the sun shines through the gray
And butterflies flit around the flowers white wings with spots of blue
Their life is brief their average span ’tis said a day or two.
Back home just west of Millstreet Town the wild birds chirp and sing
And May in the Northern Lands the best month of the Spring
And the curlew in the bog pipes above his breeding ground
And Summer days are very near when these shy birds are around.