When last I heard the dunnock sing along the ditch of the bohreen br The snowdrops and the bluebells in clusters to be seen br And the hawthorn trees looked lovely in their white flowers of the May br But that was many years ago and many miles away. br br The fields were full of wildflowers and everywhere looked lush and green br And the grass flattened by the waterway to tell where the floods had been br And though down the old bohreen I may never walk again br Of such a pleasant evening the memories remain. br br When last I heard the dunnock sing in the leafy hedgerow br In the rushes of the headland the male pheasant did cuck and crow br And the dark brown white breasted dipper was singing in the rill br That babbled towards the river down the high field by the hill. br br The little plain brown dunnock a bird I used to know br I heard him sing for the last time some twenty years ago br And perhaps in the hedgerow by the bohreen his descendant sings today br When Spring is in the old fields in a Country far away.