The Rose Of Caherbarnagh

Have the years left their mark on her with dye does she hide her gray
The Rose of Caherbarnagh where might she be today?
When I was a schoolboy in the fifties she was eighteen or nineteen
A beautiful young woman as fine as I've ever seen
Her eyes blue as the dunnock eggs her hair was sandy brown
The finest of the finest her side of Millstreet Town
She left old Caherbarnagh and her home by Caher hill
When the nesting birds were singing and wildflowers bloomed by the rill
That babbled from the foothills as inland it did flow
In May when the nesting birds were whistling on bush, tree and hedgerow
She was driven in a taxi to the Station at Rathmore
And her future would be elsewhere distant from Hibernia's shore
The Rose of Caherbarnagh I would never see again
But memories of her youthful beauty to this day with me remain

by Francis Duggan

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