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Memories Of What Was In Me

I was born and raised in Claraghatlea to Millstreet Town near
In distance thousands of sky miles north of here
Where to many today mine would be a stranger's face
Most migrants become strangers in their first home-place

I have not been to Athens or Paris or Rome
Though i've been in big cities far from my first home
The lust of the wander lured me to far away
From the place where i first looked on the lamp of day

Yet i envy those who never travel to elsewhere
Content in their first home-place for to grow old there
The stay at home people have a true sense of place
In their familiar surroundings her or his is a known and loved face.

Far south of old Clara the years have left me gray
And i would feel a stranger in Millstreet today
But memories of what was in me does remain
And in fancy i meet with the old friends again.

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