Perhaps I Will Never
Perhaps I will never climb Clara again
Or hear the birds sing in the wind and the rain
Or see the old fields in their wildflowers of May
Only memories remain of a Land far away.
The Spring brings her beauty and her shades of green
And on the ditch of the old mossy bohreen
The bluebells and primroses and snowdrops snowy white
Does make for a natural and a beautiful sight.
By their songs the wild songbirds one could not get wrong
The tiny brown wren who has a big bird song
The brown dunnock in the hedgerow sung at daybreak
Once heard he is one you could never mistake.
Perhaps I will never more see Finnow flow
In fields west of Millstreet where rank rushes grow
But I can imagine and I close my eyes
And I'm back in the Homeplace when I visualize.