From old Claraghatlea I may live far away
Though the mental pictures in my mind do stay
Of the old fields I've not seen for many a day
And good memories never fade as some are known to say
It's April now in the rushy fields near the Town of Millstreet
Where the Cails from Kippagh and the Finnow do meet
And by the bridge at Drishane into the Blackwater flow
In the home of the rook and the silver back crow
In fancy Nature's feathered minstrels I hear
The song of the throstle melodious and clear
The tiny brown wren with the bigger bird song
And the finches and robins and blackbirds do sing all day long
From the gray of the dawn till just after sundown
In the groves and on the hedgerows near old Millstreet Town.
Though the mental pictures in my mind do stay
Of the old fields I've not seen for many a day
And good memories never fade as some are known to say
It's April now in the rushy fields near the Town of Millstreet
Where the Cails from Kippagh and the Finnow do meet
And by the bridge at Drishane into the Blackwater flow
In the home of the rook and the silver back crow
In fancy Nature's feathered minstrels I hear
The song of the throstle melodious and clear
The tiny brown wren with the bigger bird song
And the finches and robins and blackbirds do sing all day long
From the gray of the dawn till just after sundown
In the groves and on the hedgerows near old Millstreet Town.