The Cliffs of Moher

For a view you can’t compare, You must head to County Clare, To the scenic cliffs that stretch out to the bay, Where the jagged coastline bends, And the emerald pasture ends, For a sight of which in words I can’t convey, Here the meadow’s gentle rise, Plummets down before your eyes, To the water seven hundred feet below, From these splendid rocky highlands, You can see the Aran Islands, As you stand upon the towering plateau, If the sunlight won’t persist, The cliffs are shrouded in the mist, As the sandstone rocks grow moist within the dew, And the grey Atlantic sky, Can do nothing to defy, Of the contrast to the ocean’s deepest blue, And by this splendid scene, Cross the grassy fields of green, Lies a perfect little village tucked away, Here in Doolin get some grub, At the famed O’Connor’s Pub, While the music hops as old tin whistles play, But the sunset’s looming light, On this splendid summer night, And the afternoon has stumbled into eve, As I pour my evening drink, I am forced to stop and think, That I wish that I would never have to leave.