The Rose Of Caherbarnagh

Have the years left their mark on her with dye does she hide her gray The Rose of Caherbarnagh where might she be today? When I was a schoolboy in the fifties she was eighteen or nineteen A beautiful young woman as fine as I've ever seen Her eyes blue as the dunnock eggs her hair was sandy brown The finest of the finest her side of Millstreet Town She left old Caherbarnagh and her home by Caher hill When the nesting birds were singing and wildflowers bloomed by the rill That babbled from the foothills as inland it did flow In May when the nesting birds were whistling on bush, tree and hedgerow She was driven in a taxi to the Station at Rathmore And her future would be elsewhere distant from Hibernia's shore The Rose of Caherbarnagh I would never see again But memories of her youthful beauty to this day with me remain