Back there in Liscreagh in the fields of Millstreet <br />Where the Cails from Kippagh and Finnow waters meet <br />The white breasted dipper he bursts into song <br />Where the fast flowing rapids go babbling along. <br /> <br />On the trees where the rivers meet the chaffinches sing <br />And the countryside looking greener in the early days of the Spring <br />And the song of the robin melodious and clear <br />Back there in Liscreagh in late March of the year. <br /> <br />High above the bog in the gray morning sky <br />The brown lark is carolling as upwards he does fly <br />Lost from sight in gray clouds but his song one can hear <br />His partner perhaps on her eggs sit hidden in rushes near. <br /> <br />Back there in Liscreagh the grass growing breezes blow <br />And the dunnock is singing now in the hedgerow <br />And the prime of the Spring and the Summer ahead <br />And the cattle on grass out of their wintering shed. <br /> <br />The morning air echoes to the harsh caw of the grey carrion crow <br />Back there in Liscreagh where the Cails waters flow <br />Through green fields that are as old as old father time <br />That have inspired writers to story, song and rhyme.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/back-there-in-liscreagh/
