Since i left Claraghatlea just west of Millstreet Town
Some of the bigger World i have happened to see
Though others have travelled far more than me
In Millstreet some claimed me to be one of their own
Though here so far south of there to so few i am known
From the old fields i loved i am ageing far away
I have not walked on them for many a day
Or whether we are seen as successful or have not done financially well
We all have our stories of life for to tell
And time that rusts iron and causes decay
On every one of us does have the last say
In Millstreet to many i would be a stranger today
So where i am now perhaps i should stay
And only the memories with me does remain
Of old Clara half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain.
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