Where the mist is fine as silk
And the land is filled with lore
Where the shamrocks grow so quick
With the green upon the moor.
Where the wee folk play their tricks
And the faeries laugh and cry
If you're nimble and you're quick,
You might catch one, if you try.
On the isle where kings once stood
And shouted victory,
Within the hills of Tara,
It's where my heart longs to be.
written June 14, 2004
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