Autumn In Duhallow

All we have are our memories of the past And sadly memory in some people till death does not last Some lose their gift of memory which does seem so sad For some things most of us take for granted we ought to feel glad In fancy i can hear the gales of Autumn roar Above the old high fields of green Claramore And old Clara is cloaked in the gray fogs of rain And storm-water is flowing in every dyke and drain And new fallen Autumn leaves by the swirling winds blown up and down On the roadway to Rathmore just west of Millstreet Town Autumn in Duhallow weather-wise a changeable time of year And with each passing day Winter drawing ever near To the old fields of Duhallow from here far away When the overnight frost at morning leaves the countryside looking gray The memories of what was in me living on But the now is all that matters since the past it has gone.