Tir Na Nog

Little people on the hill, Dancing 'neath the moonlight. Bid me come with them, I will, Run and run 'til out of sight. Tir Na Nog, Tir Na Nog, Under every moore and bog. Land of the young, Of whom we've often sung. To a land of fairies old, To a land of dance and song. Where I will never 'er feel cold, Nor the night will 'er feel long. This is a lullaby my sister, Rebekah, and I wrote together.