When I was younger and lived in Millstreet far north of here even by sky
I used to climb to Clara Mountain on pleasant evenings in July
The hill overlooking the old fields just west of the Town of Millstreet
I often picked and ate whortleberries from the heather the small blue fruits tasted so sweet,
The skylark above me was carolling like a tiny musical speck as upwards he flew
I recall I could still hear him singing even though he had gone from my view,
Overlooking the Town of Millstreet and the countryside for miles around
The scenery of Sliabh Luachra and Duhallow breathtaking when viewed from the higher ground,
Kippagh and rugged Caherbarnagh and Gortavehy and it's face of stone,
The mountain ranges of east Kerry and the legendary Paps of Shrone,
The green countryside of Duhallow of Cullen, Boherbue and Derrinagree
And back along by the Cork-Kerry border from Rathmore to high Knocknagree
The past has gone to the forever though the Happy memories we retain
And only in fancy on the slopes of Clara I do eat whortleberries again.
I used to climb to Clara Mountain on pleasant evenings in July
The hill overlooking the old fields just west of the Town of Millstreet
I often picked and ate whortleberries from the heather the small blue fruits tasted so sweet,
The skylark above me was carolling like a tiny musical speck as upwards he flew
I recall I could still hear him singing even though he had gone from my view,
Overlooking the Town of Millstreet and the countryside for miles around
The scenery of Sliabh Luachra and Duhallow breathtaking when viewed from the higher ground,
Kippagh and rugged Caherbarnagh and Gortavehy and it's face of stone,
The mountain ranges of east Kerry and the legendary Paps of Shrone,
The green countryside of Duhallow of Cullen, Boherbue and Derrinagree
And back along by the Cork-Kerry border from Rathmore to high Knocknagree
The past has gone to the forever though the Happy memories we retain
And only in fancy on the slopes of Clara I do eat whortleberries again.