O Eire

O Eire;

who could taste your sweetness,

and not cry out for more?

who could stand upon your cliff tops,

or walk the banks of

the river Shannon,

and not feel your

mystic magic?

your hills breathe

with life,

so young and fresh,

with a wisdom

so ancient and old;

O Eire;

even the mightiest invader,

is overwhelmed by the power

of your charm,

as they succumb not

to your sword,

but to your spirit,

you take not their lives,

rather, you take their souls,

making them prisoners

to that which they had

come to imprison;

O Eire.

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