For in my flights of fancy i often does see
Clara half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
Of old memories the mental images remain
In Claraghatlea fields the Claramore Rill
With the silver tongue that is never still
Flowing onwards forever babbling on it's way
To join the Cails waters by night and by day
Mental images remain of where the waterways meet
In the green countryside by the Town of Millstreet
Often walked to there before time became my foe
Through old fields i loved in the long ago
I thought i had left Millstreet but Millstreet has not left me
As i still have the memories of the what used to be.
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