In September In Duhallow

The storm water is gurgling in the swollen roadside drain
And I hear the robin singing in the wind and drizzling rain
And brown Autumn leaves in their thousands to Mother Earth drifting down
Off of the trees and hedgerows in the fields by Millstreet Town.

Old Finnow bank high is flowing babbling loudly on his way
Through the fields of Inchaleigh and Coomlogane and Claraghatlea
And above the loud flood waters I can hear the dipper's song
His voice can't be mistaken one could never get him wrong.

From the old fields by the river I am never far away
In my happy flights of fancy I walk them every day
The man can leave the Townland the wise have been known to say
But the memories of home go with him and the memories with him stay.

It is raining in mid morning through gray clouds the sun doesn't shine
In September in Duhallow 'tis not always warm and fine
And old Clara Hill is hiding behind a blanket of fog
And Finnow bank high is rushing through the wet fields by the bog.