Echoes of the Enchanted Glen

Through the mist of emerald glens I roam, Where the river sings of joys long gone, Silver branches reach for moonlit skies, Guiding feet on paths where shadows lie. Ancient oaks whisper secrets old, Of lovers parted by the fae's cold hold, I chase the wind through thorn and briar, Seeking the heart that time's denied.

Oh, the wild call of the Celtic soul, Drums of thunder, pipes that make us whole, Dance with the spirits, let the fire burn, In this ancient land, our hearts return.

Fae lights flicker in the twilight haze, Guarding the one from bygone days, Echoes of laughter on the breeze so fleet, Pull me deeper where the wild things meet. Stones of power hum beneath my tread, Tales of sorrow in the streams I've read, Yet hope ignites like dawn's first gleam, To break the spell and reclaim the dream.

Oh, the wild call of the Celtic soul, Drums of thunder, pipes that make us whole, Dance with the spirits, let the fire burn, In this ancient land, our hearts return.

In the minor shadows, doubt creeps near, Winds of winter bring the sting of fear, But the pipes wail high, the fiddle cries, Resolving the ache beneath the skies.

Oh, the wild call of the Celtic soul, Drums of thunder, pipes that make us whole, Dance with the spirits, let the fire burn

, In this ancient land, our hearts return

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Fading whispers of the glen so green, Love reunited in the in-between, Pipes and harp glissando soft and slow, Bodhrán pulse to let the wild winds blow.