I Was Of The Place

I was of the place where Finnow does flow

In fields where the rushes in clusters do grow

To the Blackwater by night and by day

Onwards to saltwater babbling on it's way

It was my yearn for travel that lured me far south

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

I have not seen the mountains of Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra for thirty five years

But for the what used to be i have long shed my last tears

I was of the place where the hawthorns in May 

Were covered in blossoms of pale white to gray

And the fields lush and green resplendent in Nature's flowers

Blooming in the sunshine after recent showers

I was of the fields that often in the morning of a Winter's day

From overnight frost were looking quite gray

But this is going back thirty five years or so

And in any human life does seem long ago.