Why should I worry one small bit at my lack of renown
A former dunce of the school room in the boys school in Millstreet Town
On the hard old roads of life since then I've travelled up and down
For it's been many years ago since my hair was dark brown.
The times have changed since I was young in meadows far away
Where in July in the Summer sun with pikes we built wynds of hay
Till the onset of the silage harvester brought with it change and rendered wynd making of the past
Few things in life do stay the same and few things ever last.
The earlier cutting of the grass stilled a voice I did love dear
Nowadays in Summer nights in Claraghatlea the corncrake one doesn't hear
By machines at the earlier cuttings of the grass their nests and eggs destroyed
And lost to us forever more a voice we so enjoyed.
A fading memory of the past of a time that has been
The travellers horse drawn romany vans on Irish roads no longer seen
Their pinto horses were replaced by the motorized van
The fifties brought with them great change to the born to wander clan.
My Millstreet boyhood in the past and time has left me gray
Though yet in fancy I do walk in old fields far away
And in Claraghatlea after sunset the moon creeps up the sky
And I hear the corncrake's craiking voice in the meadows of July.
A former dunce of the school room in the boys school in Millstreet Town
On the hard old roads of life since then I've travelled up and down
For it's been many years ago since my hair was dark brown.
The times have changed since I was young in meadows far away
Where in July in the Summer sun with pikes we built wynds of hay
Till the onset of the silage harvester brought with it change and rendered wynd making of the past
Few things in life do stay the same and few things ever last.
The earlier cutting of the grass stilled a voice I did love dear
Nowadays in Summer nights in Claraghatlea the corncrake one doesn't hear
By machines at the earlier cuttings of the grass their nests and eggs destroyed
And lost to us forever more a voice we so enjoyed.
A fading memory of the past of a time that has been
The travellers horse drawn romany vans on Irish roads no longer seen
Their pinto horses were replaced by the motorized van
The fifties brought with them great change to the born to wander clan.
My Millstreet boyhood in the past and time has left me gray
Though yet in fancy I do walk in old fields far away
And in Claraghatlea after sunset the moon creeps up the sky
And I hear the corncrake's craiking voice in the meadows of July.