I dream of travelling to far Ireland, the land called the Emerald Isle,
To see some of her natural beauty, while I explore there for a while.

A land of fathomless bright colour, where deadly deeds were done,
Where fighting, death and disarray, caused fear to every single one.

As disorder infected the innocents, into the seething Hades of hate,
And where one was uncertain, who was adversary enemy or mate.

An island created by God All-Mighty, elated with that He had done,
One of the prettiest islands on Earth, under a bright shimmering sun.

Headlands insolently stand proud, a spray wrapped powerful scene,
Protecting those lush rolling fields, of brightly brilliant emerald green.

I wish to savour foods and stews, washed down with a glass of stout,
See clear bubbling brooks reflect the sky, home of salmon and trout,

Listen intently to the drumming staccato, by twenty toe tapping feet,
To thrill me beyond recall as they echo with a rhythmic steady beat.

Smiling youthful girls happily performing, a favourite national dance,
For the sight of bouncing bobbing hair, puts me into a virtual trance.

The lilting soft sound of a tenor's voice, as he sings of undying love,
Bringing feelings of the angels smiling, down from heaven up above.

Aaah ! What a wonder it must be to live, in such a marvellous place,
As I imagine morning mists swirl grey, as they bite cold upon my face.

Then see them turn gold and silver, as the sun's rays defiantly creep,
As darkness is chased by daylight, down hillsides dotted with sheep.

A country to challenge our senses, by the myriad changes of weather,
Where fickle winds blow hard then drop, to a playful whispering zephyr.

I must journey to this fair island gem, lingering forlorn within my mind,
To savour those pictures and treasures, that God created for us to find.

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