It has been many years ago since her hair was chestnut brown
Since she pedalled on her bicycle on the streets of Millstreet Town
She left the Town in view of Clara Hill a few years short of her life’s prime
More than half of a century from then to now she is showing the wear of time
A seventy six years old widowed grandmother she has known of a better day
All she has left are the memories of her first home far away
Where she attended the convent school and into a beautiful young woman grew
One of the great beauties of the town her equals only few
But the yearn for wander in her in Millstreet she did not stay
She left the old Duhallow Town on a Spring morning in May
She has not been home for many years and doubtful she ever again will
See the gray fog that tell of rain creep across Clara Hill
Far from Millstreet in Duhallow she is clearly showing her years
In a retirement housing estate with other old gents and dears
Her thinning hair now silver gray it used to be chestnut brown
On the days she rode her bicycle on the streets of Millstreet Town.
