Tell me where you’re flowing to,
oh tell me where you truly start,
deep water from an ancient time,
flowing through my Irish heart.
Can we know your mossy beginnings,
can we know your ocean ends,
flowing under the bridges of stone,
straight on and around the bends.
Reflecting evening’s colour,
Irish green and sovereign gold,
through moments of raging flood water,
summer heat and winter’s cold.
Flowers bloom across swirling spans,
five ducks rest upon your shore,
night descends to lonely promenades,
calling us home, resting evermore.