Pale Moon's Wander in Éirinn

In the glen where the mist rolls low, Whispers call from the ancient stones, A wanderer's heart, heavy with the snow, Seeks the path where the wild wind moans. Through the heather, under moon's pale glow, Echoes of a love long gone, In Éirinn's arms, where the rivers flow, I chase the shadows till the dawn.

Oh, mo chroí, in the dance of the reel, Spirits rise on the bagpipe's wail, Hearts entwined in the misty veil, We'll sing of sorrow, yet never yield. Jig and sway, through the endless night, In the glen, our souls take flight, Fiddles cry, harps weave the light, Forever bound in Celtic might.

By the oak where the fairies play, Lost a love to the sea's cruel tide, Now the pipes lament the fading day, And the harp strings hum where tears have dried. Winds of old, carry my plea away, To the hills where the legends hide, In the firelight, we'll find our way, Through the storm, with the stars as guide.

Oh, mo chroí, in the dance of the reel, Spirits rise on the bagpipe's wail, Hearts entwined in the misty veil, We'll sing of sorrow, yet never yield. Jig and sway, through the endless night, In the glen, our souls take flight, Fiddles cry, harps weave the light, Forever bound in Celtic might.

An bhfuil tú ann, i ndiaidh an stoirm?

Grief like thorns, in my breast it forms, Yet hope blooms in the morning's warm.

Oh, mo chroí, in the dance of the reel, Spirits rise on the bagpipe's wail, Hearts entwined in the misty veil, We'll sing of sorrow, yet never yield. Jig and sway, through the endless night, In the glen, our souls take flight, Fiddles cry, harps weave the light, Forever bound in Celtic might.

Mo chroí... mo chroí...