In the lush embrace of emerald hills,
Where whispers of the ancient roam,
An Irish soul takes its gentle leave,
To find its way to a timeless home.

The mournful song of the Celtic wind,
Carries tales of lives once known,
In shadows cast by the setting sun,
A spirit’s journey is bravely shown.

Through mist and memory, it glides,
Over fields where wildflowers grow,
Guided by the distant echoes,
Of voices from long ago.

In the heart of every tear and smile,
Lives the legacy of love and lore,
An Irish death does not mean goodbye,
But a whisper of forevermore.