Just A Migrant Rhymer

Just a migrant rhymer born and raised near Millstreet Town
One without any claim to literary renown
Time that ages everyone has become my foe
I was in my prime near five decades ago

For so many years an old style rhyming buff
One who has written a whole pile of stuff
My best years as a rhymer in the forever gone
But true to my calling in life i rhyme on

It has been many years since i saw Clara's Hill
Or heard the babble of the silver tongued rill
Flowing in Claraghatlea from high Claramore
To the big waterways to the Atlantic shore

I have never pretended that i am a poet
Nor am i one worthy of any literary note
Just one who enjoyed reading rhymes as a boy
And writing them nowadays is a thing in enjoy

It is said that from life we receive our due
Though in many instances this is just not true
There are many good living people in every town
Unlucky in life and financially down

Just an old fashioned rhymer is the best i can be
It was my love of rhyme made a rhymer of me
Though my sort of writer the literary critics ignore
It is something i love doing and little else more.