From Duhallow Far Away

It was a dull day i remember the breeze in it had a cold chill
As the gray fogs of early evening gathered above Clara Hill
As i boarded the bus for Rosslare in the Square of Millstreet Town
The cold rain of Wintry December from the gray sky drizzled down

Of the last time i saw Duhallow the memories with me do remain
Streams and rivers babbling bank high brown flood water flowing in every drain
I felt very sad on leaving had not said my last goodbyes
On the migrant bus to Rosslare tears were misting in my eyes

Since then many a December and the Seasons come and go
Thirty years out of Duhallow and time has become my foe
It was the yearn for wander brought me far south to this sunny southern Land
Only those who yearn for travel the lust of wander understand

I am one of the migrant millions who migrated from Lands elsewhere
In my first home place of Claraghatlea to many now i would be a stranger there
In this marvelous southern Country i see beauty every day
Yet often on my flights of fancy i go to old fields far away

Memories are all i have left of the long gone what used to be
Of the place i was born and raised in where everyone did know of me
Where today i would be a stranger life goes on as some do say
And i feel happy in the Moyne Shire from Duhallow far away.