Inis Mór
It is the call of the sea and the crashing waves
the songs of men given up to watery graves
The fishermen's chatter and pony cart's clatter
The seal's call and the wild rain splatter
soaring cliffs and stone walls, row on row
Such is the tune my Soul well knows
An ancient language, rolls like a lullaby
The ferry's whistle and the seabird's cry
A knitter sets their needles clacking
A fiddler's tune with a Bodhran backing
Thatched roofs turned golden in the sunset's glow
This is where my Soul longs to go
Catherine Lilbit Devine © 2010
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This poem is wonderful, it transported me there.
Go raibh mile maith agat, a chara...
Go ndéana sé maith duit, a chara.
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