A Place Called Home

It may be London, Paris or Rome For all of us there is a place called home It may be Beijiing, Rio or New York For me 'tis a place called Millstreet County Cork. When frost was on the blue December sloe I left that place more than two decades ago Finnow bank high in flood waters of brown Flowed in the old fields west of Millstreet Town. Old Claraghatlea where I first saw light of day From my thoughts never ever far away I visualize the fields in their wildflowers of May And I hear the lark o'er the hill carol in the clouds of gray. Manila, Moscow, Montreal, or Tokyo in Japan Or some other place home to every woman or man We all come from some-place where-ever that be Claraghatlea in Millstreet was once home to me. Some from their home shores make new homes far away Though in their Hometown others prefer to stay We all have our original homeplaces like we all have a name And we all are different no two of us are the same.