The friends of my past i may never more meet
Some of them age in the Parish and the Town of Millstreet
And some of them in places from Duhallow much further away
Where they would be showing the wear of time's decay
And some of them amongst the deceased do lay
On how long we do live we do not have a say
Since we are born as mortals death is for us all
To the scythe of the Reaper all things of life fall
I recall days in February by Clara Hill
The wind from the north blew with a cold chill
Across the high bare fields of old Claramore
Far inland in distance from Hibernia's Shore
Yet despite the weather i looked forward to sunday to the game of football
With my friends of the past such memories nice to recall.
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