Where the wind whispers tales of ancient lore,
And mist dances on peaks, forevermore,
Stand the mountains, proud and strong,
A silent symphony, where they belong.
From Wicklow's gentle slopes, to Kerry's might,
Each crag and crevice, bathed in emerald light,
Connemara's rugged charm, a wild embrace,
And Galway's peaks, with ancient grace.
In their shadows, legends whisper low,
Of fairies, giants, and the long ago,
Of battles fought and heroes slain,
In valleys carved by wind and rain.
The clouds caress their summits high,
A tapestry of blue against the sky,
A beacon for the weary soul,
A story told, from pole to pole.
So climb these mountains, feel the earth's embrace,
Let the wind sing through you, leave no trace,
For in their presence, you will find,
The spirit of Ireland, calm and kind.