My Millstreet Boyhood

Why should I worry one small bit at my lack of renown A former dunce of the school room in the boys school in Millstreet Town On the hard old roads of life since then I've travelled up and down For it's been many years ago since my hair was dark brown. The times have changed since I was young in meadows far away Where in July in the Summer sun with pikes we built wynds of hay Till the onset of the silage harvester brought with it change and rendered wynd making of the past Few things in life do stay the same and few things ever last. The earlier cutting of the grass stilled a voice I did love dear Nowadays in Summer nights in Claraghatlea the corncrake one doesn't hear By machines at the earlier cuttings of the grass their nests and eggs destroyed And lost to us forever more a voice we so enjoyed. A fading memory of the past of a time that has been The travellers horse drawn romany vans on Irish roads no longer seen Their pinto horses were replaced by the motorized van The fifties brought with them great change to the born to wander clan. My Millstreet boyhood in the past and time has left me gray Though yet in fancy I do walk in old fields far away And in Claraghatlea after sunset the moon creeps up the sky And I hear the corncrake's craiking voice in the meadows of July.