O Eire

O Eire,

who could taste your sweetness,

and not cry out for more?

who could stand upon

your mighty cliff tops,

or walk the banks of the Shannon,

and not feel your mystical magic?

your hills breathe with life,

so young and fresh, but with a wisdom

so ancient and old;

O Eire,

even the mightiest invader,

is overwhelmed by the strength

of your power,

succumbing not to your sword

but to your spirit,

as you take not their lives,

but rather you take their souls,

making them prisoners to that

which they had come to imprison;

O Eire.

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