Kinsale in Song

Where the harbour holds the light,
And the coloured houses glow,
Kinsale wakes beside the tide
Where Bandon waters flow.

At the headland of the sea,
Where old streets lean to blue,
Kinsale keeps a harbour heart
In every changing view.

Boats lie quiet by the quay,
Hills fold green and wide,
And morning moves through painted doors
With salt upon the tide.

And over stone and water,
Through church bell, mast and foam,
The harbour gathers every road
And softly calls it home.

Kinsale, Kinsale, where the harbour holds the light,
Colour on the old streets,
Boats upon the tide.
Kinsale, Kinsale, through the wind and rain,
Your water keeps a memory
And sings it back again.

St Multose keeps the older prayer,
Stone and tower still,
While Desmond Castle holds the town
Beside the turning hill.

Customs, prison, famine shadow,
Names the walls have known,
Yet harbour light comes softly down
And rests on every stone.

Kinsale, Kinsale, where the harbour holds the light,
Colour on the old streets,
Boats upon the tide.
Kinsale, Kinsale, through the wind and rain,
Your water keeps a memory
And sings it back again.

Once the world came armed to Kinsale,
England, Spain and Gaelic clans,
And after smoke and broken winter
Nothing stayed the same.

Charles Fort watched the narrow entrance,
James Fort kept the shore,
But the song beneath the harbour
Is deeper than the war.

Let history stand clearly,
Let sorrow not be sold;
Christ-light through the church doorway
Warms the weathered cold.

For every street and every vessel,
For every hand that stayed,
Kinsale keeps a living mercy
Where harbour memories stay.

Now the streets are bright with colour,
Artists, craft and open air,
Marina masts and evening voices
Rise like music there.

For Kinsale is more than beauty,
More than stories guides retell;
It is harbour, street and courage,
Where old waters still speak well.

Kinsale, Kinsale, where the harbour holds the light,
Colour on the old streets,
Boats upon the tide.
Kinsale, Kinsale, through the wind and rain,
Your water keeps a memory
And sings it back again.

Kinsale, Kinsale, under Cork's soft sky,
Harbour town of colour,
Keeping old roads by.

Harbour and colour, bell and stone,
Every quay and street is known,
By the tide, through rain that falls,
Kinsale hears the harbour call.

Where the harbour holds the light,
Kinsale keeps the song.