I Can Only Be Poem by Francis Duggan

I can only be a migrant from Duhallow
Even as the crow fly from here far away
Back there now wildflowers blooming in the old fields
And hawthorns wear their white blossoms of the May.

Back there nesting birds in leafy groves are singing
And the robin he pipes on the alder tree
And bluebells on the ditch of the old bohreen
In flights of fancy such beauty I see.

When people ask of me where do I come from
I'm from Duhallow to them I do say
A countryside that I lived many years in
'Twas there I first looked on the lamp of day.

I can only be a migrant from Duhallow
And that is all that I could only wish to be
Back there today I might even seem a stranger
Since old father time has left his mark on me.