I Am Not A Patriotic Fellow

I am not a patriotic fellow though i retain a sense of place
For Claragahatlea where i was born and raised in and mine used to be a known face
Of where i have many good memories though far from there i well may die
A place that i do think of often to say different would be a lie

There i spent the best of my prime years before time did become my foe
I left it in wintery December a year with three decades ago
When Finnow swollen by heavy downpours flowed bank high in flood waters of brown
And cattle for fodder were bellowing in the farmyard sheds near Millstreet Town

The old fields looked wet and deserted and Clara wore a hat of snow
And the cold gales of the Boggeragh Mountains above old Duhallow did blow
And howled in the bare deciduous trees as the rain it was drizzling down
As i sat on the bus bound for Rosslare on the evening i left Millstreet Town

The past for us only has memories the future of us is ahead
And the now is only what does matter as the wise one so wisely has said
And the now for me is Illowa Victoria in the Moyne Shire near Warrnambool
Far south of the Town of Millstreet where i went to primary school

Though many are quite patriotic and of their love of Country do brag
I am not one of those sort of fellows who carry their pride in a flag
But like most every other migrant i retain a strong sense of place
For Claraghatlea near the Town of Millstreet where mine used to be a known face.