Here About Hill

From Hereabout Hill
the sun early rising
looks over his fields
where the river runs by;
at the green of the wheat and the green of the barley
and Candlelight Meadow the pride of his eye.

The clock on the wall strikes eight in the kitchen
the clock in the parlour
says twenty to nine;
the thrush has a song
and the blackbird another
the weather reporter
says cloudless and fine.

It’s green by the hedge and white by the peartree
in Hereabout village
the date is today;
it’s seven by the sun and the time is the springtime
the first of the month and
the month must be May.

From Hereabout Hill by Seàn Rafferty