Perhaps I Will Never More See Clara

Perhaps i will never more see Clara cloaked in fogs of rain Or walk in the old fields of Claraghatlea again Or in the gathering gloam hear the lowing of a cow On a calm evening in Spring in a field by the River Finnow The past may be gone but my thoughts often stray To places i love by old hills far away Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy And learning of her ways i still do enjoy Where i often daydreamed i might be a poet A person well worthy of literary note But daydreams are just that and seldom come true And i receive from life what is only my due Most of the mentors of my young years in eternal rest lay Their fate will be mine in not too distant day I learned so much from them when i was young Their praises in rhyme i so often have sung Though i have penned rhymes of the places in my travels i see A Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be A mile in the old scale west of Millstreet Town Where i used to live when my hair was dark brown The now is all that matters as some like to say Those who look at life in a philosophical way And i live in the now far south of the Claramore rill Flowing through Claraghatlea with a tongue never still.