Though for the past he has shed his last tears
Far north of here he lived his boyhood years
Where River Allow flows through Kanturk Town
He lived when his hair was curly and brown
He talks of his first homeplace with a sense of pride
A divorced grandfather in his sixth decade time not on his side
Though Kanturk to him now just a memory
Of what was for him in the what used to be
A fan and a paid up member of the local football club
On Saturday evening he is often in the pub
Enjoying the friendly banter and the barroom cheer
He always has had a strong liking for beer
A migrant of Kanturk a town far away
His hair on his balding head is silver grey
The passing of time on him does show
Far from the town where old Allow does flow.
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