I live far south of clara and

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I Live Far South Of Clara And Claraghatlea Near Millstreet Town
Where The Finnow From High Gneeves Through The Old Fields Journey Down
On It’s Way To The Blackwater Through The Green Old Countryside
And Though The Clock On My Life Keeps Ticking The Memories Have Not Died
Of The Old Fields By The Old Hill That Are Lush And Green In Spring
In This The Pleasant Month Of April When The Nesting Birds Chirp And Sing
In The Leafy Groves And Hedgerows In My Flights Of Fancy I Do Hear
The Pleasant Sounds Of Nature In This Lovely Time Of Year

And The White Breasted Dipper In The River One Cannot Mistake His Song
From Once Heard Him You Remember You Will Never Get Him Wrong
And The Swallows Back Home To Breed From Sunny Places Far Away
In Pursuit Of Flying Insects From Daybreak To Gloam Of Day.
We Keep The Memories With Us ‘Tis Not Hard To Visualize
And I Hear The Skylark Carolling In The Dawn Before Sunrise
And I Hear The Chaffinch Singing In A Grove In Claramore
Many Miles By Sky Or Ocean From This Sunny Southern Shore.