Fond Memories Of What Was

 Today i would feel a stranger in Millstreet

In the green countryside where the waterways meet

And a stranger to many in old Millstreet Town

Near where i used to live when my hair was dark brown

When i was a young man many decades ago

Long before time it did become my foe

In the Millstreet area to many i was known

Where from a baby to a man i had grown

It has been thirty four years since i climbed Clara's Hill

Or heard the babble of the Claramore rill

With a silver tongue that is never still

To the bigger rivers flowing on with a will

To where my love for Nature as a boy did grow

In the fields of the rook and the badger and the silver back crow

I often return to when i visualize

Good old memories do linger i have come to realize

All migrants have their memories of for them what used to be

And today my memories of Millstreet are living in me

And though i may never climb on old Clara again

Fond memories of what was until death i will retain.