Perhaps I Will Never

Perhaps I will never climb Clara again Or hear the birds sing in the wind and the rain Or see the old fields in their wildflowers of May Only memories remain of a Land far away. The Spring brings her beauty and her shades of green And on the ditch of the old mossy bohreen The bluebells and primroses and snowdrops snowy white Does make for a natural and a beautiful sight. By their songs the wild songbirds one could not get wrong The tiny brown wren who has a big bird song The brown dunnock in the hedgerow sung at daybreak Once heard he is one you could never mistake. Perhaps I will never more see Finnow flow In fields west of Millstreet where rank rushes grow But I can imagine and I close my eyes And I'm back in the Homeplace when I visualize.