A Claraghatlea Fellow
I may die as I live quite close to poverty
And a Claraghatlea fellow is all I can be
And though I may live far from where Cails waters flow
I often recall places I used to know.
Old Townlands far north of this Southern Shore
Inchaleigh, Coomlogane, Annagloor, Claramore,
Coolikerane, Shannaknock, Ballydaly from here far away
In fancy I visit them often if not every day.
Without any success of which I could name
To be a Claraghatlea fellow my one claim to fame
It has been awhile now since my hair was dark brown
When I was a young man near old Millstreet Town.
It still flows on downland the old mountain rill
Through John D Murphy's fields in view of Clara Hill
And the song of the dipper I fancy I hear
The past though long gone to my thoughts ever near.
Few would even know me now in Millstreet Town
On the old streets that I often walked up and down
The years have left me looking balder and gray
And I would feel a stranger in Millstreet today.
Yet in fancy I'm back in the old fields again
And I hear the birds sing in the drizzling rain
In early Spring when wildflowers bloom and grass commence to grow
And the milder winds from the mountains do blow.
Comments about this poem (A Claraghatlea Fellow by Francis Duggan )
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