Your old craggy features i see every day
Embedded in the depths of my memory
Mental images of you are living in me
Old Clara that rise above high Claramore
I left you for to live on a distant shore
But on the old fields i loved as ever you look down
On the green countryside just west of Millstreet Town
Us people are mortals to life we come to and from go
But time to the mountains is never a foe
Long before people to live to the Land once known as Hibernia came
Old Clara you existed as one without a name
Like all migrants i too remember the past
Good memories in the human mind until death does last
The green rushy fields and the silver tongued streams
And the old face of Clara i often see in my dreams
In our visualizations we often do see
Some of our favorite landscapes of the what used to be
And one of mine is Clara by the Town of Millstreet
Overlooking the field where the waterways meet.
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