The Fields Of My Past

In distance they do seem a long way from me
And it does seem that them I will never more see
Those old fields a mile to two from Millstreet Town
That I used to love when my hair was dark brown.

I left those old fields some two decades ago
When Clara wore his hat of December snow
The sky clouded over it was threatening more rain
And stormwater was gurgling in the roadside drain.

Yet I can see the old fields when I visualize
And I see the brown lark from the rank rushes rise
He becomes a musical speck as upwards he does fly
To carol his song in the sunny Spring sky.

I grew to love Nature when I was a boy
And my walks in the old fields I used to enjoy
With Pudsy our rugged old brown cattle dog
When the curlew was fluting above the brown bog.

The biological clock on my life ticking fast
And the fields I once loved are the fields of my past
Still when I visualize I walk on them again
And good memories of what used to be I retain.