The High Fields Of Kilmeedy

In fancy i only can see them today
The high fields of Kilmeedy from here far away
Where Clara's old bracken face ever looks down
On that green valley close to Millstreet Town

In the groves of Kilmeedy in the prime of the Spring
The nesting birds of  Nature do whistle and sing
When the lark above the slopes of Clara does fly
To carol his song in the gray evening sky

The ever babbling sound of the silver tongued rill
That flows to the Finnow from the fields by the hill
Since i last saw Kilmeedy many Seasons ago
The biological clock it has become my foe

A beautiful place at most times of the year
Earthly Utopia to Kilmeedy has to be near
A poet of such natural beauty would write
A nice poem for lovers of poetry to read and recite

The cool winds of Autumn blow with a slight chill
Above green Kilmeedy by old Clara Hill
And only the memories with me now remain
Of that beautiful place i may not see again.