Beneath the sweeping skies of emerald green,
Where ancient stones in silent circles stand,
The whispers of the past are softly seen,
In every leaf that trembles ‘cross the land.

The rivers sing a song of ages old,
As silver waters kiss the rugged shore,
Through verdant fields where tales of lore unfold,
Each step a dance of history to explore.

The heather blooms beneath the misty veil,
A purple sea that greets the morning light,
With stories woven in the gentle gale,
Of Celtic dreams that soar to endless height.

In twilight’s glow, the land of Eire sighs,
A symphony of nature’s sacred tune,
Where every breath of wind and wave implies,
A harmony beneath the silver moon.