Green yo the Gill
Emerald hills wake under mist
Soft winds sweep the silent bog
Heather bends where spirits kissed
Moonlight crowns the standing rock
Ancient oaks hold druid dreams
Old bards sang beside the fire
Silver rivers stitch the streams
Harp and wind lift hidden choir
Ghosts walk slow on famine roads
Grey seas guard the rebel shore
Storm and sorrow share their loads
Yet the land grows green once more
Fair folk stir in hawthorn shade
Sídhe doors glow deep below
Tuatha songs through dusk are laid
Ireland’s bones still breathe and glow
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