The Lust Of The Wander Was In Me Poem by Francis Duggan

The lust of the wander was in me and my thoughts were of a distant shore
And the cold gale rumbled in the woodland and across the bare fields did roar
And the flood was bank high in the streamlet that flowed down land through Claramore
My last memories of the old Country on a day with a forecast high of four.

Society doesn't see me as successful but to hell with society I say
Why should one to the negative judgements of others any sort of attention pay
If you do not do wrong to others and to help others go out of your way
The World is better for you living in it if you do a good deed every day.

I won't be going back to the Homeland one might say the piggy bank is low
Without much money in your wallet not many places one can go
I was a schoolboy of the fifties and now my hair is silver gray
And the changes keep happening in Millstreet the Millstreet I love far away.

In Spring the male chaffinch was singing in the high wood by the hill
And the skylark carolled above the mountain and buttercups bloomed by the rill
But many Springs have come and gone since and the Seasons they come and they go
And the last time that I saw old Clara he was wearing his white hat of snow.

I said goodbye to west of Millstreet and to the fields where Finnow waters flow
And I was bound for a far Country to the Land where the mountain ash grow
I thought in the Spring I'd return when robin piped to greet the May
But many Springs have come and gone since and from the Homeland I still live far away.

The lust of the wander was in me and a cold wind from Caherbarnagh did blow
And I had a dream for to follow but that was a long time ago
And society does not see me as successful but to hell with society I say
I do not try to harm others so attention to them I won't pay.