Cliffs of Moher

On yonder shore,

where sea meets land,

there's a magical place

that you'll think quite grand,

Imagine the rolling hills kiss

the sand, and your heart leaps

to fly in the breeze beside the

seas west of England,

The cliffs tumble down to

the depths and they grin

as they crumble your greatest

laid plans within,

For the sun shines so bright

and the birds caw so eager

and you don't want to ever

even leave her, believe me

there's island rapture of old,

you cannot resist, so I am told,

Sheep hum in the distance

ringing bells like a steeple,

as the young and the old

draw near with bright eyes,

you're suddenly jealous

of the people seeing

the sea and the skies,

You imagine this is the place

you'd gladly earn your lady's grace,

and bend to a knee to beg her heart,

praying murmurs of love

as if it's an art,

In the same second's thought,

you think life could begin or end here,

and if she said no, they you'd gleefully

jump to the sea without fear,

for your next love awaits below so lonely,

for company, hungry, and the call of

the birds make you want to become light

as a sparrow's wings in flight,

Oh, this enchanted bed of cliffs

that kiss your soul like a lover or wife,

you cannot pry away your fingertips,

and you wonder why you've been away

from here for all of your life.