John Spillane - Gortatagort
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AmI Sing the Fields I sing the Farm
EmI Sing the House my Mother was Born
FIn Gortatagort, Colomane
CA Green Jewel
Sewn in a Patchwork Quilt of Fields
Between the Mountain and the River
In this Time now, and in Another
Where I ran Free with my Brothers
Through the Long Meadow, the Cnocán Rua,
The Fort Field, the Páirc na Claise,
The New House Field, the Gallán Field,
The Clover Field, the Rushy Field
FWhere the Red FGuschia weeps in the AmHen’s
EmGarden
And the Angels bleed over Bantry Bay
I see the House I see the Yard
I see the Stall I see the Stable
I see the Haggard and the Hen’s garden
I see the Hill I see the Well
I Sing the Spring and the Well water
The Flat field, the Hilly field
The South Ray Grass, the North Ray Grass
The Brake, and the Páircín na hEornan
Where the red fuschia weeps in the Hen’s Garden
And where God goes to sleep in the Hills and Valleys
And the Moon rises over the Haggard
And Peace descends on Gortatagort
And the Angels bleed over Bantry Bay