Here is another version of Fields Of Athenry

Composed by Tony Waldron and John Flanagan

Down by the Clareen's mossy banks one evening I did stray
To while away the leisure hours before the close of day.
My mind began to wander to the days long long gone by
When I roamed as free as Gaoth na Sí o'er the fields of Athenry.

T'was often with our dogs and sticks just at the break of day,
Barefooted o'er the dew clad grass we carelessly did stray.
To hunt the rabbits and course the hare 'til the moon rose in the sky.
Those were the happy days we spent, round the fields of Athenry.

Then homeward bound at evening time we'd wend our weary way
And we'd talk of the thrills and all the spills that we had throughout the day
And when the new moon we would see up in the evening sky
And we'd hear the curlew's plaintive call round the Fields of Athenry

And we had some famous hunting dogs I'll mention but a few.
There was Red and Speed and Rebel brave, we had noble Murty too.
But Bruno was the king of all as o'er the sod he'd fly
And 'twas woe betide the hare that strayed 'round the fields of Athenry.

All through the long hot summer days through those green fields we strayed.
While a youthful blood coursed in our veins and death seemed far away.
Sure we thought we were immortal that 'twas just the old that died.
Ah but now there's few of the friends I knew round the fields of Athenry.

I remember well young Jimmy so wild without a care.
As he sped across the moorlands you could see his flaxen hair
Just to watch himself and Rebel it would fill your heart with joy.
As they hunted for the rabbits 'round the fields of Athenry.

I recall to mind young Joseph who left for the Irish guards.
He was tall and square with long blonde hair he outran us all by yards.
But still in all his ramblings beneath an alien sky,
In his heart he was home a-hunting round the fields of Athenry.

Ah but now I'm old and my head is grey and I'm bowed with the weight of years.
When I think about those happy times sure my eyes grow dim with tears.
But still I love to ramble where the trout rise to the fly.
Down by the Clareen's mossy banks that flows through Athenry.

And when the Lord will call for me and my final peace be made.
On that hallowed hill above the town 'tis there I will be laid.
And when the final judgement comes with its fanfare from the sky
I will rise and then I will hunt again 'round the fields of Athenry