The fields

As the bumping, grinding train
Left the town of Athenry,
The visible terrain
Changed to fields as we chugged by.
And young Notcher, chin in hand,
Moved by such a wondrous sight,
Pointed long at said fields and
Remarked ’pon their lack of height.
Unlike others we had seen,
Such as those in Ball’nasloe,
These, so luscious and so green,
Laid particularly low.