To most i would be a stranger today in my first homeplace
It has been thirty four years since i saw Clara's Hill
Or walked on the banks of the Claramore rill
In the Claraghatlea fields babbling it's way
With tongue never silent by night and by day
Nineteen eighty six seems a long time ago
And time that rusts iron has become my foe
I would be even a stranger today to most in Duhallow i used to know
Over time in our ways many of us apart seem to grow
Time does not wait for anyone and it did not wait for me
Thirteen with three score years makes seventy three
And only the memories with me now remain
Of places and faces i may not see again.
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