Old Jim From Derrinagree

He'd like to spend his last days in the homeplace In the Village he left in 1943 As a twenty year old and almost in his prime day Beyond Duhallow there was much to see. In three score years there are so many Seasons It's more than halfway to a century And ageing Jim is showing his years in greyness He's clearly not the man he used to be. The oak sapling he planted by his parents cottage Has matured to a proud and massive tree And the family cottage now lived in by strangers And his relatives all gone from Derrinagree. For almost sixty years he has lived in Australia From old Duhallow more than half a world away But the old brogue it remains with the migrant And his North Cork accent still with him today. In Derrinagree he now might be a stranger The changes have been great in sixty years And though many of his old friends gone to the grim reaper He still feels homesick after a few beers. He still talks of the green fields of Duhallow The memories of the homeplace never die And though more than half a century may seem a long time On looking back the years just seem to fly. He left his little Village in Duhallow When he was young in 1943 And he always talks when he has a few drinks in Of going back home to die in Derrinagree.