Beneath the skies of sapphire hue,
Where whispers of the wind are true,
Lies a place of eternal rest,
Where Irish hearts find peace and nest.
In fields of green, where clovers bloom,
The echoes of a distant gloom,
Murmurs of lives once full of grace,
Now gently sleep in this sacred space.
The Celtic cross stands tall and proud,
A beacon through the misty shroud,
Guardian of the souls who tread,
The path where ancient spirits led.
As twilight falls, the stars align,
To guide the lost with light divine,
In Irelandâs heart, where dreams transcend,
Life and death, forever blend.