A long way from here this far southern shore
To old Claraghatlea by the road to Rathmore
But the fields of my youth do not seem far away
For in fancy I do visit there every day.
In the ageless old fields where the rank rushes grow
The rivers often bank high to the Blackwater flow
In distance quite far but the memories remain
And in memory I walk on the home ground again.
The stormwater gurgling in the roadside drain
And the robin he sings in the wind and the rain
The Spring brings her wildflowers and blossoms of May
Though we must live in the now as some are known to say.
The silver billed magpie is fluting on the black wattle tree
And in the Townpark the bird known as pee wee
Is singing his song in the morning sunshine
In weather for months that has been warm and fine.
To old Claraghatlea by the road to Rathmore
But the fields of my youth do not seem far away
For in fancy I do visit there every day.
In the ageless old fields where the rank rushes grow
The rivers often bank high to the Blackwater flow
In distance quite far but the memories remain
And in memory I walk on the home ground again.
The stormwater gurgling in the roadside drain
And the robin he sings in the wind and the rain
The Spring brings her wildflowers and blossoms of May
Though we must live in the now as some are known to say.
The silver billed magpie is fluting on the black wattle tree
And in the Townpark the bird known as pee wee
Is singing his song in the morning sunshine
In weather for months that has been warm and fine.