The Ancient Hill Of Tara

The Ancient Hill Of Tara
by Paul McCann

Mild and mighty Meath beneath the green grass are ancient graves you hold .
Honoured hills, howling winds and pouring pain have swept through the land 
Like our legends that never grow old 

Clans and kings, magic rings . Kells and Celts . Crosses . Still pastures of peace .
Gold chalices raised in fists and war cries around ancient places  
are all of your memories Meath

If the oceans all ran dry and the valleys had lost all their kings
I’m sure there’d come a day when the rain’s would fall again
on the empty throne’s of time where love begins .

If darkness fell down over all the land and the stars shone no more ,
no doubt they would find a way to make work it out
and see the light that will guide us forevermore .

At the hill of Tara a crown is placed upon the head of those
who will reign as King and Queen of an ancient land,
and in their time , what will they find ,
God only knows .

The echo of every word that was shared
shall be heard in the wind
and all the secrets we hold like the stories we’ve told
shall be a garment made of gold that we’ve spinned ,

Love will be  a lamp for the soul and It will keep us young and free
while the world gets old we will find smiles and laughter to keep us happy.

While others are locked in cages we will have songs to keep us free
and  like birds in their trees we will sing songs for every new day that brings
sunshine for our eyes to see ,.

Around the hill of Tara each age will make their own history , 
and time will pass by like the blink of the eye for the Kings and Queens in a blessed eternity.
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