From the woodland to the marshland, ‘long the mountains of the highland, white moon rolls her marbled agate breaks the dawning pink and scarlet. Sunrise moves past sea and sand, over the green fields of Ireland Shine the sun rays gently sifting, through the branches darkly twisting; ‘Rise queen morning wear a gold gown, silver clouds adorning your crown! Daybreak comes at sun’s command, over the green fields of Ireland So wake the rain-filled meadow bed where white-front geese and teal are fed; Among each weaving tuft of green wild Meadow Rue peeks in-between. Hail aurora’s blessed band over the green fields of Ireland Faraway the Shannon’s flowing, in the air a light gale’s blowing, anointing every bog and glen with heather scent from Arderin... Where those ancient mountains stand over the green fields of Ireland So clear the hov’ring mists that cool above Lough Sheelin’s fairy pool, ‘Tis morning time lift up the shade, and shine the emerald that was made when the Lord stretched His great hand over the green fields of Ireland |
