Beneath the emerald skies so cold,
Lies the tale of stories, untold,
Where shadows dance on ancient stones,
And whisper secrets in mournful tones.

The winds of Eire carry the song,
Of lives once vibrant, now long gone,
In meadows where memories lay,
Their spirits wander, night and day.

Through mist and rain, their voices sigh,
A gentle lament, a haunting cry,
For those who rest in silent graves,
By the shores of lonesome waves.

Yet in the sorrow, hope does gleam,
In every brook, and flowing stream,
For in each death, a life is born,
As twilight fades into dawn.