A long way from here this far southern shore
From the high fields of Clara by old Claramore
Yet in my flights of fancy I hear the clear rill
Babble through Claraghatlea from it's home by the hill
The old fields that often inspired me to rhyme
Have not changed that much with the passing of time
And the birds by their song are not hard to recall
In the Natural landscape few changes at all
The scratchy notes one ought to never mistake
Of the dark brown white breasted dipper in the stream at daybreak
And birds in the grove sing in the prime of the May
Far north of this Land in a place far away
The past may be gone but the memories remain
And in fancy I walk in the old fields again.
From the high fields of Clara by old Claramore
Yet in my flights of fancy I hear the clear rill
Babble through Claraghatlea from it's home by the hill
The old fields that often inspired me to rhyme
Have not changed that much with the passing of time
And the birds by their song are not hard to recall
In the Natural landscape few changes at all
The scratchy notes one ought to never mistake
Of the dark brown white breasted dipper in the stream at daybreak
And birds in the grove sing in the prime of the May
Far north of this Land in a place far away
The past may be gone but the memories remain
And in fancy I walk in the old fields again.
