One More Ageing Migrant

As i worked in the old fields west of Millstreet Town
I daydreamed of fame and of literary renown
And the dreams that i had are the dreams i pursue
Though daydreams for many not known to come true.

From Claraghatlea North i am one who lives far
One could not reach Duhallow from this Land by car
And yet for my travels i don't have much to show
Far south of the fields where the old Finnow flow

Through the old fields where it will flow forever more
Down to the Blackwater to the Atlantic shore
One more ageing migrant showing his years in gray
And memories of the past from me fading away.

Back there in Duhallow in the sun of mid day
The nesting birds sing in the green groves of May
And the hawthorn trees laden in their blossoms of white
So lovely to look at a beautiful sight.

One more ageing migrant far from the home shore
Far south of the roadway that leads to Rathmore
Of a successful life i am one who can't tell
Just your average poetaster who pens doggerel.