I am from the place where the Cails waters flow
The home to the badger and silver back crow
I left there to move south twenty four years ago
With Clara in his hat of December snow
The old hill that overlooks high Claramore
Far north even as the migratory birds fly from this southern shore
I may even seem a stranger in the Claraghatlea of today
Who is that old fellow many there of me might say
It has been many years since i heard a mother cow
Lowing to her young calf in a field by the Finnow
Or heard the dipper sing in the silver tongued rill
That babbles to the river down the fields by the hill
Good memories of what was in me does remain
And in fancy i walk in the old fields again.
The home to the badger and silver back crow
I left there to move south twenty four years ago
With Clara in his hat of December snow
The old hill that overlooks high Claramore
Far north even as the migratory birds fly from this southern shore
I may even seem a stranger in the Claraghatlea of today
Who is that old fellow many there of me might say
It has been many years since i heard a mother cow
Lowing to her young calf in a field by the Finnow
Or heard the dipper sing in the silver tongued rill
That babbles to the river down the fields by the hill
Good memories of what was in me does remain
And in fancy i walk in the old fields again.