With Jack The Brown Dog

When I was seven years old in nineteen fifty four I hunted for rabbits in old Claramore With Jack the brown working dog a young dog then The boys of the fifties are now ageing men In his grave Jack has lain now for many a day In our backyard in Claraghatlea he forever will lay A devoted companion as I do recall A four legged friend is the best friend of all recalling my youth is a thing I enjoy They were my happiest years when I was a growing boy But the Seasons came and went and time ticked on by And on looking back the years seemed to fly But in my flights of fancy in Johnny Murphy's fields and Pomeroy's bog I am hunting again with Jack the brown dog.