from the high cliffs with the seabirds
turning over the molten sea,
from the rockstrewn coast
and the seaweed fields i come,
from the high up and the low down,
from the bogs of Longford
and the streets of Cork i come,
from the Shannon's castle shadows
where the swans swim singing
i come to walk these greening hills
with an ache for the old home stirred
by the plaintive notes of a pennywhistle
echoing in these woods i hold so dear,
all the more determined to protect
for the lack of them in Ireland.
