The gray fog on some twilights old Clara’s face roll down
And rooks cawing on the high trees in Millstreet my Hometown.
The home of Gaelic Footballers some of Duhallow’s best
The mighty men of Millstreet for Cork’s finest clubs a test
Years back the poets and songwriters paid homage to Millstreet
And the wearers of the green and gold were always hard to beat.
Of my old Hometown far away good memories I retain
The wild birds singing in the Spring in sunshine and in rain
And through grassy fields by Millstreet Town though grove and by hedgerow
Old Finow with the murmuring voice forever downland flow.
The lunch hour break in the school house yard was our happiest hour of all
We played the games that most children love like marbles and football
And though the boys I went to school with are now in their life’s Fall
The memories of my old Hometown with fondness I recall.
On some evenings you can’t see Clara hill in his gray foggy gown
And the rooks call on the high trees in Millstreet my Hometown
And still the memories are with me of a place I knew so well
So far away by distant hills where peace and beauty dwell.