In the shadow of the emerald hills,
Where whispers of ancient tales reside,
Souls find peace in the tranquil stills,
And in the earth, they softly hide.

The rivers sing of bygone days,
Flowing gently through the lore,
Carrying whispers in their gentle sway,
Of lives that dwell forevermore.

Under the canopy of skies so clear,
Spirits dance in the evening light,
Their laughter, a melody we hold dear,
A guiding star in the darkest night.

With each breath of the Irish breeze,
Comes a memory, a tender trace,
Of those who rest with gentle ease,
In the embrace of this sacred place.