I Wish I Was Hunting (T. Makem,)


I wish I was hunting where the wild ducks run
And the rabbits and the pheasants and the hares
Or searching for a fox in the ferns and the rocks
And I wouldn’t give you tuppence for my cares

On a fine, sunny morning, with the dew upon the grass
And the mist lying soft upon the hill
I would ramble through the bog, just myself and the dog
And go fishing in the river by the mill

There are trout in the river, there are salmon there as well
And sometimes the long and slippy eels
And the meadows would be ringing with the sweet larks singing
And the people out working in the fields

In the merry month of June, when the whins are in bloom
And the dusk begins to fall at half past ten
If you walked a mile or so and you knew just where to go
You could find them making poteen in the glen

In the month of October, when the weather’s turning cold
And the yellow autumn stubbles on the ground
There are bright window lights burning holes in the night
And the fiddle music ringing all around