Since I Left Claraghatlea A Mile From Millstreet Town

Since i left Claraghatlea a mile from Millstreet Town I've traveled through many a countryside flat, wide and brown But for my years i have little to show in financial gain And only the memories with me do remain Of old Clara cloaked in the gray fogs of rain And faces and places i will not see again And though nostalgia in me has died the memory i retain In early Spring of the breeding frogs croaking in the water filled drain I penned my first rhymes of old fields far away But far south of them i am growing old and gray I realize now i will never be a poet Or even one worthy of minor literary note Where the flute of the magpie does herald the day The pee wee does sing in the park by the bay And clusters of yellow flowers on the golden wattle tree Even in Winter there is great natural beauty in this Southern Country And though memories of what was till death i will retain Perhaps i will never see Clara again Or hear the dipper sing in the ever flowing rill That babbles to the river down the field by the hill