On Where Clara

On where Clara with the bracken face is ever looking down
I was born and raised in Claraghatlea a mile from Millstreet Town
In those old fields I penned my first verses
and daydreamed of renown
In the coolness of October when the leaves were turning brown
Penning rhyme as most will tell you is a hungry belly game
And I've never known of success and I've never known of fame
And though for myself as a rhymer I have never made a name
I keep on penning verses as I like it just the same
The songbirds of Duhallow by their songs I got to know
The tiny brown wren with the big bird song he sang in the hedgerow
And the chaffinch and the robin and the blackbird and the thrush
When the fields wore their wildflowers of April sung on every tree and bush
But far from the countryside near Millstreet Town I may live my final day
From the old fields of my boyhood more than half of a World away.