In dreams i stand on Clara's Hill in view of the Paps of Shrone
And ancient Caherbarnagh and Gortavehy's face of stone
Above me the lark is singing as upwards he does fly
One of Nature's airborne minstrels born to carol in the sky
Grey clouds above the mountain overlooking Millstreet Town
I gaze on the scenic beauty where the roads wind up and down
By old fields through the valleys that always look so green
I do feel a very privileged one for the beauty i have seen
Since last i climbed on Clara many years have come and gone
But back there in Duhallow life as usual does go on
Us humans like Nature's seasons to life come and go but the fields and mountains stay
And time never waits for anyone it ticks and ticks away
But in my dreams i stand on Clara's Hill admiring the splendid view
In life i've been so lucky one of the lucky few.
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