In fields where clover grows so green,
The whispers of the past are seen,
Through misty morns and twilight’s gleam,
In Ireland, where dreams convene.
The rolling hills and ancient stones,
Sing songs of old in haunting tones,
The tales of love and life intone,
In every breeze, their spirit’s known.
By rivers clear and forests deep,
The secrets of the land we keep,
In laughter bright and sorrows weep,
Our hearts entwine, our souls they leap.
From Dublin’s streets to Galway Bay,
The essence of our life will stay,
In every smile, in every day,
The Irish spirit finds its way.