The land of Erin, green and windswept lies

Against the wild Atlantic Ocean tide;

Along the coastline ‘neath the savage skies,

Where rolling breakers on the rocks collide.

 

The stunted trees that dare defy the storm

Are savaged by the wind’s relentless wrath;

And all the branches raked to leeward form

Like ragged ribbons trailing in its path.

 

The shoreline of this ancient, rugged realm

Can be as ever-changing as the skies,

For the incessant waves can overwhelm

The sandhills that behind the beaches rise.

 

The cliffs and mountains rise above the sea,

And stubbornly resist the toll of time

While offering a vantage, wild and free

For those who dare to risk the windy climb.

 

The people of this charismatic land

Embrace a rare, relaxed philosophy,

In keeping with the way that they withstand

The ravages of its topography.

 

In gazing westwards from the craggy coast,

Across the broad expanse of boundless deep

The timeless sense of self becomes almost

Submerged within the endless tidal sweep.