Of Knocknagree Fair

Most things in life eventually become a fading memory
Like fair day in the high Village of Knocknagree
In view of Clara, Caherbarnagh and Gortavehy's hill of stone
And Goddess Anu's breasts the ancient Paps of Shrone

But only in death memory completely disappear
And in the crowded Village the voices of men and the bellowing of cattle i can hear
And in my nostrils in the cold morning air
The strong smell of animals brought to be sold at the fair

In the high Village in Sliabh Luachra's countryside
Cattle buyers and farmers from places far and wide
In the Village fair field many cattle bought and sold
Of  Knocknagree fair songs written and stories are told

On fair day the farmers felt happy when their cattle they did sell
And the Knocknagree publicans  in alcohol sales did quite well
But fair day in the high Village is now of the past
And few things in life ever does seem to last

The Seasons do come and the Seasons do go
And eventually time becomes everyone's foe
And only the fading memories with me do remain
Of a past in the flesh i cannot visit again.