It has been twenty three years since I last lived in Millstreet
In Claraghatlea in view of Clara where the Cails and Finnow meet
In early December the hills hatted in snow
And the stream in brown flood waters to the river does flow
Through the rain-drenched fields and by ditch and hedgerow
At a time of year when nothing seems to grow,
In early December by Clara from here far away
The birds never sing at the dawn of the day
The overnight frost leaves the old fields looking gray
Many weeks from early December till the birth of the May
The cattle in farm sheds bellowing to be fed
And hungry birds by the back door pecking crumbs of bread
And the wintery winds blow down from Claramore
Many miles inland from Hibernia's shore.
In Claraghatlea in view of Clara where the Cails and Finnow meet
In early December the hills hatted in snow
And the stream in brown flood waters to the river does flow
Through the rain-drenched fields and by ditch and hedgerow
At a time of year when nothing seems to grow,
In early December by Clara from here far away
The birds never sing at the dawn of the day
The overnight frost leaves the old fields looking gray
Many weeks from early December till the birth of the May
The cattle in farm sheds bellowing to be fed
And hungry birds by the back door pecking crumbs of bread
And the wintery winds blow down from Claramore
Many miles inland from Hibernia's shore.