I would love for to go home for to grow old and die
Near where old Clara Mountain as ever looks down
On the green countryside just west of Millstreet Town
Of any material successes in life I do not have to tell
As I am one who has not done financially well
Not one of the children of the greater gods
I know what it is like for to battle the odds
Yet I often think of the fields where the waterways meet
A few kilometers west of the Town of Millstreet
Where I grew to love Nature when I was a boy
And today learning of her ways I thoroughly enjoy
But I would like to go home for to grow old and die
If I did tell you differently this would be a lie.
No comments:
Post a Comment