Perhaps I Will Never Climb Poem by Francis Duggan

Perhaps i will never climb Clara again
Or in Spring hear the birds sing in the wind and the rain
When the cool winds of April from the mountains do blow
And the male pheasant in the rushy field does cuck and crow

Perhaps i will never again see the old Paps Of Shrone
Or rugged Gortavehy in it's face of stone
And hear the babble of the Claramore Rill
Flowing to Claraghatlea down the fields by the hill

Perhaps i will never again see the gray fog
Roll down Mushera Mountain and across Togher bog
In late Fall when the sun is hidden in the sky
And the lark for to sing from the ground does not fly

I only have mental images of Winter beauty i used to know
Of the Boggeragh Mountains in their hats of snow
This is all i have left of the what used to be
From my faraway past that has come south with me

I may never again walk the fields of July
With the warmth of the sun in the blue Summer sky
Though the pleasant aroma is with me today
Of grass freshly mown for silage or hay

In the quiet of the twilight just after sundown
In the beautiful countryside near Millstreet Town
I may never again hear the low of a cow
In a field that does border the River Finnow

Some things in reality i will never more see
Though mental images of my past i have brought south with me
And in memory i walk in the old fields again
And hear the birds sing in the wind and the rain.