The Hard Roads Of Life

The hard roads of life I have been up and down
Since I left the old fields west of Millstreet Town
Where Finnow from Gneeves by grove and hedgerow
On towards the Blackwater at Drishane as ever does flow.

In fancy I climb on old Clara again
And hear the lark singing in the clouds of rain
His descendants sing o'er the old hill today
And the clock on my life it is ticking away.

To the father of time we eventually must bow
And we only can live in the here and the now
The boy of the fifties decades past his prime
To remember his best days must go back in time.

So many miles south of Hibernia's shore
And the roadway that leads from Millstreet to Rathmore
The clock on our lives it ticks on and on
And though we remember the past the past it has gone.