Just An Aging Claraghatlea Fellow

From my first home-place i did love dearly in miles i now live far away
But my nostalgia for it has been fading and there i might feel a stranger today
It has been more than twenty four years since i used to walk with Jack the dog
In Summer when the dipper was singing in the Finnow in Matty Owens bog
I fear growing old far less than i fear dying to say otherwise would be a lie
I know where i commenced my life's journey but i am not to know where i will die
I was born a Claraghatlea fellow by the Killarney Road near Millstreet Town
I now am an aging gray haired bloke when i left there my hair was dark brown
Just an aging Claraghatlea fellow is all that i can claim to be
But only in my flights of fancy the old fields i nowadays can see
And i can recall the song of the robin who sang on the old cypress tree
In cool damp mornings of late Winter in the latter days of February
Just an aging Claraghatlea fellow one who lives far South of Clara Hill
Who wakes to the flute like song of the magpie the bird with the silvery bill.

by Francis Duggan

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