In Claraghatlea in Millstreet my life's journey began
And there i was raised and grew into a man
But far south of there the years have left me gray
By Clara i would be a stranger to many today
To other life forms little different at all
Since for each one of us there is a final Fall
And for each one of us a final Summer, Winter and Spring
Like the bird who one day has it's last song to sing
Success and failure to me now seem the same
Since i've lost my desire for moneyed wealth and fame
The rhymes that come to me in notepaper i write down
I wrote my first one by a far away town
Not one of life's successes that's how it seems to be
Perhaps my years of absence now would make a stranger of me
In the place where i first looked on the lamp of day
By the Boggeragh mountains from here far away.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
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