Ireland in Song

From Dublin light to the western foam,
Ireland wakes and calls us home,
Road and river, field and rain,
Old names rising soft again.

Not only castles, not only fame,
But every small remembered name,
A townland road, a chapel bell,
A quiet place where stories dwell.

And the roads remember,
And the waters know,
The small dear places
Where old songs grow.

Ireland, Ireland, through wind and rain,
Through road and river, loss and gain,
From county fields to the restless sea,
Your quiet heart still sings in me.

Ireland, Ireland, in light and storm,
In ruined stone and hearth still warm,
Through every shore and every lane,
Your living song remains, remains.

By Shannon waters running deep,
Where hidden heartlands softly keep,
By Galway wind and Sligo’s sky,
The old roads carry voices by.

There’s Cork in the south with harbour light,
And Dublin streets in morning bright,
Through fields and towns, through work and song,
Every county carries memory on.

Ireland, Ireland, through wind and rain,
Through road and river, loss and gain,
From county fields to the restless sea,
Your quiet heart still sings in me.

Ireland, Ireland, in light and storm,
In ruined stone and hearth still warm,
Through every shore and every lane,
Your living song remains, remains.

Old monastery stones still face the rain,
And chapel bells call hope again,
Through broken walls and weathered years,
The land has learned to carry tears.

There were years of hunger, years of pain,
Ships that left through mist and rain,
But hope crossed the ocean, far from home,
And still returned in prayer and song.

Not every light is bright and loud,
Some shine softly through the cloud,
Christ-light hidden, calm and small,
Still keeping mercy over all.

In humble homes and quiet grace,
In every road and resting place,
By work and prayer, by loss and dawn,
The older light still carries on.

So gather stories, one by one,
From road and river, rain and sun,
A bridge, a school, a field, a quay,
A path beside an elder tree.

For every place, both near and far,
Has held the light of who we are,
And every name, though small and long,
Can find its voice inside a song.

Ireland, Ireland, through wind and rain,
Through road and river, loss and gain,
From county fields to the restless sea,
Your quiet heart still sings in me.

Ireland, Ireland, in light and storm,
In ruined stone and hearth still warm,
Through every shore and every lane,
Your living song remains, remains.

Every county, every lane,
Every harbour, field, and name,
From Dublin light to Atlantic foam,
Ireland sings her children home.

Through road and memory, rain and flame,
Ireland still remembers her name.