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On The Last Time I Saw Cullen

The cold winds of November blew with a heavy chill
On the last time I saw Cullen the Village on the hill
'Twas early in the morning from pub opening some three hours
And a heavily overcast sky was threatening sleety showers.

A morning in the late Fall of four to five degrees
The cawing of the rooks nearby was carrying in the breeze
The Village seemed deserted and not a soul in sight
And all around seemed peaceful and all around seemed quiet.

On the last Time I saw Cullen on a morning in late Fall
The only sound about the place was the rooks monotonous call
As I drove up through the Village in dawn's cold early light
The quietness seemed to linger from the cold Duhallow night.

On the last time I saw Cullen some twenty years ago
The morning it was chilly though not cold enough to snow
In the silence of the morning the stillness was profound
And the cawing of the rooks on the nearby trees the only living sound.

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