From Millstreet

From Millstreet i have been quite a long time away

And my erstwhile friends there may not need me as their friend today

I socialized with them played games of football

But since many a Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall

I may have left Millstreet but Millstreet did not leave me

On my flights of fancy i often does see

Old Clara half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain

In the mind of the migrant the mental images of the past remain

With the silver tongue that is never still

The low babbling sound of the Claramore Rill

Flowing onwards in Claraghatlea forever more

At the start of it's journey to the Atlantic shore

Where i grew to love Nature as a young boy

And learning of her ways today i enjoy

In this often sunny place in this Land far south

Of the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout

My best days are in the long forever gone

And the clock on my life ever keeps ticking on

And of the old fields i loved only memories i retain

Though in fancy i often walk on them again.