From Duhallow Far Away

It was a dull day i remember the breeze in it had a cold chill As the gray fogs of early evening gathered above Clara Hill As i boarded the bus for Rosslare in the Square of Millstreet Town The cold rain of Wintry December from the gray sky drizzled down Of the last time i saw Duhallow the memories with me do remain Streams and rivers babbling bank high brown flood water flowing in every drain I felt very sad on leaving had not said my last goodbyes On the migrant bus to Rosslare tears were misting in my eyes Since then many a December and the Seasons come and go Thirty years out of Duhallow and time has become my foe It was the yearn for wander brought me far south to this sunny southern Land Only those who yearn for travel the lust of wander understand I am one of the migrant millions who migrated from Lands elsewhere In my first home place of Claraghatlea to many now i would be a stranger there In this marvelous southern Country i see beauty every day Yet often on my flights of fancy i go to old fields far away Memories are all i have left of the long gone what used to be Of the place i was born and raised in where everyone did know of me Where today i would be a stranger life goes on as some do say And i feel happy in the Moyne Shire from Duhallow far away.