I May Never

I may never climb Clara Mountain again
Or hear the breeding frogs croak in the water logged drain
When the mild winds of March from the Boggeraghs blow
And in the rushy old fields the male pheasants crow

Of life we all do have our own history
And we age with our memories of what used to be
Of people we have known and on our journeys have met
Those we remember with fondness and those we wish to forget

I may never again hear the migratory curlew sing
In Matty Owens bog on an evening in Spring
In the calm of the twilight just after sundown
In the quiet countryside just west of Millstreet Town

Our good memories age with us like good tasting wine
But the memories of a city raised person would be different to mine
And though different to mine a country raised boy
City raised people have their own good memories to enjoy

Though his song lives in me as a memorable thing
I may never again hear the male robin sing
When the hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
In green old Duhallow from here far away.