When All Else Has Gone

When all else has gone the nostalgia remain
And only the good memories of what was we retain
Though I may never walk in the old fields again
And hear the birds sing in the wind and the rain
With memory the decades of time we do span
The boy of the fifties is now an ageing man
With gray hair on balding head of one three years with three score
Far south of the high fields of old Claramore
Far south of the place where the Cails waters flow
In the land of the badger and silver back crow
Yet I can imagine the beauty of May
When wildflowers are blooming in fields far away
We remember the good times of days now long gone
But the clock on our lives it does tick on and on.