In Matty Owen's bog going back decades ago <br />With Pudsy i hunted near where Finnow waters flow <br />Old Pudsy our faithful old brown cattle dog <br />She chased many a hare through the length of the bog. <br /> <br />But nothing in life ever does seem to last <br />The days of my boyhood they seemed to go fast <br />And more than four decades have passed since Pudsy passed away <br />She was a tough dog but she too had her day. <br /> <br />The curlew o'er the rushes he pipes all through May <br />His mate on a tussock on her blotched eggs did lay <br />His beautiful piping i fancy i hear <br />Some things from the past does remain ever near. <br /> <br />In the old rushy fields west of Millstreet Town <br />I often did walk as i daydreamed of renown <br />But such dreams for most never seem to come true <br />And happiness now is all i wish to pursue. <br /> <br />The little brown skylark carolled in the sky <br />He seemed a small speck as upwards he did fly <br />In Matty Owen's bog in the Spring of the year <br />Even as the crow flies quite a long way from here.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-matty-owen-s-bog/
