Back there in old Sliabh Luachra in the countryside around the Paps of Shrone
Where the hill sheep eat the heather around the bracken and the stone
In the days of Ireland's first people it was an ancient place
Though nothing there to tell us of the history of an extinct Race,
In the countryside of the Cork and Kerry border great poets and musicians did reside
And their fame grew into legend they became known Worldwide
Their poetry, song and music lives far from Hibernia's shore
Far from where they gave their free recitals at the crossroads near Rathmore
Back there in old Sliabh Luachra the changes happening fast
For only Mother Nature is the one who seems to last
Still the dipper can be heard sing where the river meets the rill
And in Spring the skylark carols o'er the rushes by the hill
And in Winter the cold north eastern winds across the high fields blow
Where the ancient Paps stand in silence in their cold hats of snow.
Where the hill sheep eat the heather around the bracken and the stone
In the days of Ireland's first people it was an ancient place
Though nothing there to tell us of the history of an extinct Race,
In the countryside of the Cork and Kerry border great poets and musicians did reside
And their fame grew into legend they became known Worldwide
Their poetry, song and music lives far from Hibernia's shore
Far from where they gave their free recitals at the crossroads near Rathmore
Back there in old Sliabh Luachra the changes happening fast
For only Mother Nature is the one who seems to last
Still the dipper can be heard sing where the river meets the rill
And in Spring the skylark carols o'er the rushes by the hill
And in Winter the cold north eastern winds across the high fields blow
Where the ancient Paps stand in silence in their cold hats of snow.