I Cannot Tell Of A Cushy Life

Life for me is a struggle and perhaps I am never more
To see the rocky outcrop of my far Homeland shore
Financially embarrassed and a stranger to renown
And perhaps I would even feel a stranger now in Millstreet my Hometown.

The schoolboy of the fifties and early sixties has known a better day
And time has left him weary and looking old and gray
And time never waits for anyone the seconds tick away
Like Longfellow the poet once said It Is Not Always May.

Yet sometimes in my flights of fancy I hear the Glasheen Rill
Go rippling through the old fields in view of Clara hill
Somethings do last a life-time and in the memory stay
The savage loves the native shore as some are known to say.

I cannot tell of a cushy life or dreams that did come true
But then suppose we only get from life what we are only due
And many people in their lives do have some cross to bear
And many must grow poorer for every new millionaire.