Of My Time On Mushera

The memories with me are all that does remain
I will never fell pine trees by Mushera again
In all sorts of weather wind, sun, frost and rain
With brown rain water flowing in every drain

Across the high country the cold winds did blow
And old Mushera was often in his hat of snow
Late Winter in Mushera can be a cold and wet time of year
The wind soughing in the pine trees in fancy i hear

But Mushera is a beautiful place in the Spring
When the wood pigeons coo and the nesting birds sing
And the weather temperatures close to a pleasant twenty degrees
And the warmth of Spring in the freshening mountain breeze

When the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blooms of May
Dark faced young lambs in the high fields by Mushera around their mothers play
And the dark barn swallows in the blue and gray sky
In pursuit of flying insects chirping as they fly.

The memories are all i have left to retain
Of what used to be but will not be again
Of my time in Mushera felling spruce and pine trees
On weather temperatures of varying degrees.

“Of My Time In Mushera” is by Francis Duggan

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