Though I come from a land in the North Sea
Where I do live is always home to me
My life journey has me far south of my birthplace
Where nowadays mine might be a stranger's face
A stranger where my life's journey began
Where from a boy I grew into a man
Some twenty four years and Springs have gone by
Since I last heard the lark sing in an Irish sky
The past is now a fading memory
And time ticks on it did not wait for me
And though the friends of my youth I've not seen for many a day
The present is all that does matter anyway
I live far south of the silver tongued rill
That flows to the river from the high field by the hill.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
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