Alexandre G. Botelho

Tara on the Hill

From every dusk to every dawn
I have not seen, nor will
a place as wondrous as it is
My Tara on the Hill

I have not seen in places I travelled
judging with all goodwill
Anything both great or small
Like Tara on the Hill

From the banks of Downkirk Patrick
You can see her lying still
In her green and browny mantle
My Tara on the Hill

The very winds that come to kiss her
fall in love and fill
her bosom with sweet bird songs
My Tara on the Hill

There was where we met our doom
And where our true love grew
I'll never come back home again
or to Tara on the Hill

�Alexandre G. Botelho, 24/06/1999

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