My memory take me back long years to when i was young boy <br />To evenings in mid Summer in June and in July <br />The corncrake called in darkened mead the same notes o'er and o'er <br />But now in part of Ireland where i lived the corncrake heard no more. <br /> <br />In most of their old breeding grounds the corncrakes now don't breed <br />The earlier cutting of the grass stripped cover they did need <br />The silage harvester took it's toll their nests and eggs destroyed <br />And in green meadow near my home the voice of corncrake died <br /> <br />The corncrake's voice no longer heard in meads of Duhallow <br />And I've not heard their familiar calls for thirty years or so <br />The earlier cutting of the grass left the birds with nowhere <br />to hide <br />And the corncrakes have disappeared from my native countryside <br /> <br />On summer evenings long ago some hours after nightfall <br />In darkened meadows near my home the corncrakes did call <br />But the migrant rail no longer heard lost to posterity <br />And that voice i loved when i was young now just a memory<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-corncrake-heard-no-more/
