A Fellow From Millstreet Is All I Can Be

The bug of the wander it had bitten me Beyond Clara Mountain there were places for to see The Boggeragh hills in their white hats of snow And Finnow in brown flood waters bank high in the old fields did flow The cattle in the farm sheds were bellowing for silage or hay On that bleak and that wintery December day A cold wind driven rain it was drizzling down As i boarded the Rosslare bus in Millstreet Town To the boat that take migrants from Hibernia's shore On a journey that many had been on before The lure of the wander lures many away From the place where they first looked on the lamp of day Though sometimes i feel nostalgic for the long gone years For what used to be i have shed my last tears All we have are our memories of Seasons long gone But the now is all that does matter and life does go on I do sort of envy those at home happy to stay Who never yearn to travel to Lands far away But how boring we would be for want of a better name If in our thinking and interests we all were the same The past may be gone but the memories of it remain And in fancy i often visit Duhallow again When the old fields are in their wildflowers of the May And the hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms of white to gray Far south of where mine used to be a known face I am just a fellow from another place But despite my years of absence from there it does seem to me That a fellow from Millstreet is all i can be.