I heard an angry voice behind a drystone wall
At a beauty spot on out by Carron;
"Go on, Get back to Dublin
You hippies don't belong here
Traipsin' round the Burren
Never spendin' very long here. "
And the only thing
That I could think to say was;
We all belong here
This is our native shore
While I'm here I'd love to sing
A song in praise of Mullaghmore
I took a rocky road up Croagh Patrick
And a mossy path up Sliabh Gallion Braes
And I plunged in the deep at Brandon Creek
And slept in a glade beyond Dъn Maebh
All alone along the Wicklow Way
Peace and solitude I found
When I reached the slopes of Mullaghmore
I could have sworn that was the holy ground
Minister, minister
Pause for reflection
As you fly by helicopter
In pursuit of re-election
An obsession with affairs of State
And legislature
Leaves little time for us to share
In the miracles of Nature
Like the fairy foxglove
And the rusty-back fern at Poll Na Gollum
The silver cranesbill
And columbine at Caher Connell
The juniper at Bellharbour
The wintergreen around Slaibh Carron
These miracles of nature
Surviving in the crevices of the Burren
There's gonna be sewerage schemes
And septic tanks, tarmac and concrete mixers
And rumours circling Co. Clare
Promising lots of nixers*
And car parks to be levelled
Infills and elevations
And when the dust is settled
A handful of jobs and relations
Nature took two million years
To sculpture Mullaghmore
Carved from the ancient rock
By the freezing ice and snow
As the sun shines down on the mountain
At the broad Atlantic ocean
You can hear the small birds singing
On the Burren round Mullaghmore