Apart In Our Ways And Thinking We Do Grow

Apart in our ways and thinking we do grow
My friends of the past of the decades ago
With some of them I drunk, partied and with some of them I played football
And in my reminiscing them I do recall.

Some of them in the old Parish grow old and gray
And some of them like me went to live far away
From Clara the old hill that ever looks down
On the green countryside bordering Millstreet Town.

My friends of the past like me losing out to time
It has been awhile since we were in our prime
But the past from our lives it forever has gone
And we live in the now and life does go on.

Though young in my memory they ever remain
My friends of the past I may never meet again
And the Seasons do come and the Seasons do go
To the old country-side where Finnow waters flow.

by Francis Duggan

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