Old Caherbarnagh

On the last time I see old Caherbarnagh The chill of Winter in the morning breeze And in the farm sheds cattle for fodder bellowing And rooks were cawing on the naked trees The fields with frost were gray in Ballydaly And it did seem a long way from the Spring And robin he perched silent on the cypress Too cold even for him to wish to sing. On the last time I see old Caherbarnagh The river in the fields bank high did flow And the morning air one might say was quite chilly And it was cold quite cold enough to snow. The clock on our lives ever keeps on ticking 'Til eventually we become victims of time And on the last time I see old Caherbarnagh I was a decade then beyond my prime. On the last time I see old Caherbarnagh The frosted fields were looking silvery gray And in the farm sheds the hungry cattle bellowing Impatient for their silage and their hay.