Just Memories Of What Used To Be

In the babbling stream at Claraghatlea the white breasted dipper does sing
His voice it cannot be mistaken on a chilly evening in the Spring
A bird born near and living in the river of a water life he only know
The mental pictures remain with me from all of those decades ago.

The cattle from wintering sheds are out on the old fields with lush grass to bite
Where billions of wildflowers are blooming which makes for a beautiful sight
The sparrows chirp on the barn rafters where they build their nests of feathers in hay
The next generation of sparrows will be fledged flying and chirping in May.

In Claraghatlea i was born and raised and in Claraghatlea i spent my prime
And in the old stream by the old fields to Nature i penned my first rhyme
Back there in view of Clara Mountain in the Townland west of Millstreet Town
I dreamed of a life of adventure when my head of hair was dark brown.

In Claraghatlea amongst the stream's babble i often heard the dipper in song
In latter March and early April in Spring when the days were growing long
When i was a much younger person just memories of what used to be
The years they keep creeping up on me and time it does not wait for me.