Or on familiar sidewalks walk up and down
Though it lives as a memory of what used to be
Of the past in death only one does become free
It is only in memory that i walk again
In the old fields in March in the freshening winds of rain
When the breeding frogs are singing in every field drain
Good memories of what was a joy to retain
Where old Clara Mountain as ever looks down
On the green countryside west of Millstreet Town
Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
Faces of the past i do readily recall
Like me they too have grown older time takes care of all
So many i have not laid eyes on for years
And for what used to be i have shed my last tears
What if i never again walk in the rushy fields to where the waterways meet
In distance not far from the Town of Millstreet
I retain my good memories of the long ago
Though time that rusts iron has become my foe.
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