On a tall beech that has seen many Seasons the distinctive caw of the gray crow
And swallows fly to and fro o'er the old fields where the ancient Araglen flow
On his journey to the Blackwater through old places as old as time
That inspired the bards of past centuries to poetry and song and to rhyme,
Old Araglen he is still flowing forever he will journey on
Through beautiful and green Duhallow though the poets who glorified him long gone
To the reaper who claims every mortal but the old river will never die
Mortality is not for old Araglen mortality is for such as I,
From Kiskeam it journeys through Cullen through fields and by many a hedgerow
I've seen him in flood bank high flowing when I was young decades ago
I've seen him on warm days in Summer as he babbled quietly along
On an alder tree by his green bank the chaffinch was singing his song
And still the old Araglen flows on through old places from here far away
Through green places in old Duhallow he babbles onwards night and day.
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