The Man From Caherbarnagh

 An octogenarian the hair on his balding head grey

And he is one who has known of a better physical day

His deceased wife in the nearby cemetery lay

And there he will join her when time on his life has the say

The man from Caherbarnagh  many times a great granddad has lived for eighty four years

And for the what used to be has long shed his last tears

Memories of the Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra border countryside are all he does retain

And he may never see Caherbarnagh again

In Summer in late June and all through July

The larks above Caherbarnagh did sing in the sky

On Caher's steep slopes he often did eat

The tiny dark blue whortleberries of the heather a delicious treat

The accent he brought with him his last link to his past

Will remain in his tongue until he breathes his last

And though the Boggeragh Ranges he may never more see

He retains the memories of the what used to be

The man from Caherbarnagh he lives on his own

And physically better days of he has known

About him he does have a likeable way

He even greets strangers with a cheerful good day.