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When I Talk Of Home

It may not be by Cashman's Hill my last remains will lay
But that will not matter to me when i've lived my last night and day
The migrant Athenian talks of Athens the migrant Roman talks of Rome
And i talk of Millstreet when i talk of home
I am from the place of the silver back crow
Where the Cails and Finnow to the Blackwater flow
In my flights of fancy the carolling lark i do hear
Above the rushy fields in the Spring of the year
But absence brings change as some are known to say
And back there i may well be a stranger today
Even to those i once knew there in life they have moved on
And they live in the now since the past has long gone
And only the memories of what was remain
When in fancy i walk in the old fields again.

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