I think about the old home very often though far from there my bones may well yet lay
In flights of fancy i see the fields and hedgerows and the old home i visit every day.
Old Claraghatlea the Townland of my childhood from my thoughts it is never far away
I walk again in sunlit Summer meadows and to my nostrils come the scent of hay
And i can hear the old rill gently babbling and young birds chirping in the green hedgerow
And though it has been two decades since i left Millstreet on looking back it does not seem long ago.
In Claraghatlea i spent my youthful Seasons though on looking back so brief did seem my prime
And in the Townland within view of Clara mountain i first fell in love with Nature and with rhyme
The robin and the chaffinch i remember and the tiny brown wren with the big bird song
Despite my years of absence their voices i remember and their songs once heard one never could get wrong.
Where-ever my life journey will lead me to old Claraghatlea will always follow me
Those old fields within view of Clara mountain in flights of fancy i will always see
I hear the loud coos of the wild wood pigeon and i hear the dipper singing in the rill
That babbles it’s way down to the big river by hedgerows of the high fields by the hill.