My first homeplace i have not seen for years
And for what was i have shed my nostalgic tears
And the past like every yesterday to the forever gone
But the memories of what was in me does live on
From late Fall in Duhallow to the early Spring
In the cold and wet weather the birds never sing
And the rivers often bank high in the rushy fields flow
And the Boggeragh hills often covered in snow
But late Spring in Duhallow a nice time of year
And the song of the blackbird so pleasant to hear
The cattle out from wintering shed gaining weight by the day
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blooms of the May
Where many used to claim me as one of their own
Nowadays to most Claraghatlea residents i would not be known
A stranger to many where i lived my boyhood and prime
Great changes occur with the passing of time
Though they remain as i knew them in my memory
The old fields i loved i may never more see
And though my years of absence from there may have made a stranger of me
A Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
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