The things I loved and cherished fade from my memory
Those fields of Claraghatlea North that once were part of me
The hedgerows and the woodlets now seem so far away
The years take toll on everything and memory in decay

I fail to memorize of late the wren's explosive song
Perhaps my memory fade with age and I've been away too long
From fields of Claraghatlea North my love of bygone years
But for my fading memories I feel no urge for tears.

The Winter months were cold and wet the hills wore hats of snow
And fields along the river submerged from overflow
But April brought it's greenery and birds piped for the May
And o'er the bracken hillside the lark piped all the day.

From fields of Claraghatlea North my journey south began
And the accent I brought with me give proof of migrant man
But the accent is all I've got left the memories in decay
And what was near and dear to me now seems so far away.

Towards fields of Claraghatlea North beyond the miles of sea
The redwings now are winging down from northern Country
I thought I might return in Spring the old Townland to see
But circumstance has changed all that it wasn't meant to be.

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