The Kingdom of Kerry is crowned high in splendour,
Yet, in all its majesty, gentle and tender;
Enrobed with the white mists that play on the dunes,
Courted by seabirds, with wild, haunting tunes.
The hills are beguiling – such vistas you meet –
Each one pulls you closer and seems to entreat,
‘Come, find me; come, know me: to know is to care
For Kerry more deeply – to yearn to be there’.
When back in the city, such longing you’ ll know –
The clamour and bustle will sadden you so –
The dear Ring of Kerry will pull you away
Out to the West, with its magic, one day.
Return you to Kerry, where beauty’ s the queen,
And peat fires kindle the heart of the dream,
Where the tired eyes of mankind at last meet perfection,
And a vision of Earth that is Heaven’s reflection.