It May Not Be By Cashman's Hill Poem by Francis Duggan

It may not be by Cashman's Hill far north and far away
From this far southern Country my bones will forever lay
But to me it will not matter when the life from me has gone
Until the Reaper's scythe I cannot avoid I will keep living on.

What happens to my last remains I can't say I much care
Of where they lay forever more the dead are not aware
My parents lay by Cashman's Hill the family grave is there
Though it won't cause me loss of sleep to think I might lay elsewhere.

It may not be by Cashman's Hill myself I do repeat
That I will lay forever more in the Tanyard of Millstreet
I hope I have a peaceful end that's all I wish for me
And the rest of my life enjoy, death's for eternity.

It may not be by Cashman's Hill I will rest forever more
It may be in this Southern Land far south of Hibernia's shore
And whether I am cremated or buried to decay
What happens to my last remains will not matter either way.