Though Fond Memories Of

Though fond memories of the what was i do retain
Perhaps i will never see the Boggeraghs again
Or walk in the old fields when the soft winds of Spring blow
When the cock pheasant in the rank rushes does crow

Here few wish to hear stories i have to tell
Of miracles i have heard of at Tubrid's Holy Well
With a shake of the head i have heard a few say
Just another tall yarn of a place far away

It was the lust of the wander that brought me far south
Of the home of the badger and shy river trout
Where to many i would be a stranger today
I once was well known and did not choose to stay

Though there were other places for me for to see
I do retain the memories of the what used to be
When old Clara was half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
And the breeding frogs croaked in every water logged drain

It has been many years since my physical prime
And eventually we all become victims of time
And tomorrow the past it will be today
We must live in the now as the wise one does say.