I'M A Fellow From Old Claraghatlea North Poem by Francis Duggan

I'm a fellow from old Claragatlea North to say otherwise would be a lie
And a fellow from old Claraghatlea North I will be 'til the day that I die
When people ask me where I come from I say from a place far away
From the old fields by old Clara mountain where I lived for many a day.

A fellow from old Claraghatlea North is all that I ever can be
Though few in the evergreen Townland would now know or recognize me
I was younger and fitter and stronger when I left two decades ago
When a cold wind blew across the old fields and Clara wore a hat of snow.

A fellow from old Claraghatlea North that's all I am and nothing more
Where the Finnow flows to the Blackwater on it's journey to the Atlantic shore
In fancy I often hear the dipper on a rock in the stream rapids sing
That flows by the grove to the river on a pleasant day in the Spring.

A fellow from old Claraghatlea North that is my only claim to fame
The fields there as I do remember are referred to by their given name
I hail from Millstreet in Duhallow and as a Claraghatlea man I'll remain
And often in my flights of fancy I walk in the old fields again.