The Rose Of Gneeves

I see her again where the wild daisies bloom
By the road out of Millstreet that leads to Macroom
When the hawthorns are white in their blooms of the May
And the male robin sing in the wood far away.

From this Southern Land of the grey kangaroo
And the woods of the currawong and the weerloo
The one from the fields where Finnow water flows
In my ageing memory she remains as a young rose.

A lovely young woman with a beautiful smile
Unpolluted by conceit and untainted by guile
I see her as vibrant not ageing and gray
As young in my memory she does seem to stay.

From the high mountain fields old Finnow babbles down
Through green old Cloghoula on towards Millstreet Town
And i see her again one of beauty rare
The Rose of Gneeves with dark brown curly hair.

by Francis Duggan

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