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Tir Na Nog
Little people on the hill,
Dancing 'neath the moonlight.
Bid me come with them, I will,
Run and run 'til out of sight.
Tir Na Nog, Tir Na Nog,
Under every moore and bog.
Land of the young,
Of whom we've often sung.
To a land of fairies old,
To a land of dance and song.
Where I will never 'er feel cold,
Nor the night will 'er feel long.
This is a lullaby my sister, Rebekah, and I wrote together.
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