Celtic Child

By Paul McCann  

In the mists of time she walked like a child,
With Celtic ways that had the world beguiled.
She had gothic eyes and an ancient smile
She carried herself with a Celtic style.
She had haunting looks and an angels face .
She walked like a Queen on the airs of grace.
Her hair flew in the wind ,shone in the sun ,
In a Celtic time when  love had begun .
Just like a child when first she walked my way,
I heard her talk and wished she might have stayed.
Celtic child come to me and let me see ,
The Celtic cloaks around your mystery .
With your silver rings and your Golden hair
you look like a cat in the moonlight there.
With your gleaming eyes and your blood red cheeks
I'm the one asking is it love that speaks .
Oh my Celtic Child don't you say goodbye,
as stars disappear in a blood red sky.

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The Celtic Spirit 

By Paul McCann

The Celts are  out there.
There's life beyond us as we know it ,

There is a Celtic spirit world .
In this very space there is a  Celtic spirit ,

It moves in an unseen way in this world .
It’s a  place that we can't touch,

It’s an extra dimension ,
but the Celtic spirit world does exist.

There's another world somewhere within our own world
It’s a Celtic spirit world  that we've missed.

The Celtic spirit world and this world live in balance .
The normal and supernatural

The material and the spiritual .
We are here but so are they,
the  untouchable .

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 A Celtic Winter 
By Paul Mc Cann

Back there in Celtic times  dodo birds and lizards ,
had to find some food regardless of the blizzards .
As the warriors rode horses in the snowdrift,
they cantered carefully in case the ground would shift .
In Celtic times witches never flew on broomsticks ,
Celtic winters would always  spoil  their magic tricks .
Wizards lost their pointed hats in the Celtic wind .
and mostly needles broke on spinning wheels that spined .
Back in the Celtic winters when times where so dark ,
the butterflies slept and the sky swallowed the lark .
Rivers flowed to the sea and fish refused to bite ,
when winter was cold and the snow fell day and night .
In Celtic times when it was minus ten below.
Animal skins warmed bodies that lay in the snow
Everywhere the cold wind blew a chilling sound.
As footprints where imprinted in the snowy ground .
Winter keeping company with a moan and groan .
Everybody sits frozen down to the bone .

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The Celtic Wilderness 

By Paul Mc Cann

It's a long road to the Celtic wilderness,
where the brave save their strength for the fight .
The kiss of their Clans breaths life
through the Celtic mist,
as eyes keep the still of the night .
Bide a while in the night .
The long road is far behind .
As one let our voices unite .
We can be free for once ,
if we dare to be brave .
Sound off our voices out in the night .
A-Shah-lah , de-dah-de-dah .
Ach come on .
This is the voice .
Our ancient Celtic rite .

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A Celtic Summit
by Paul Mc Cann

Without an echo my voice is just a wasted breath .
High upon a mountain top ,
where the world has gone deaf .

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Beyond Ben Bulbens Beauty
By Paul McCann

Once more I will go beyond County Sligo ,
to the vision of Ben Bulbens delight .
Where twelve misty Bens over green grassy glens ,
touch the eyes where hearts take heavenly flight .
It's there can be heard the Gaels soft spoken word ,
like a rapturous song perfectly sung .
Thick clouds have been found to sweep the Celtic battleground,
where strange shadowy shapes have clung .
A mysterious sight welcomes all those who might ,
find their way to starlights clustered show .
Majestic the sight from its depth to it's height,
has cradled the night in heavens soft glow .
Such beauty is rare, you can never compare ,
all you can say is I love what I see .
With mind and heart set where horizons are met ,
beyond Ben Bulben is where you will be .

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The Lost Sons Of Erin
By Paul Mc Cann

See the cold cruel sea how she's taken from me ,
all my sons from the shore and no more do I see,
the wild wind in their hair or the rain beat their face .
It's so long they've been gone from this lonely old place .
I wish they would all come back home where they belong.
Oh the lost sons of Erin, how long they've been gone .
Long before the dusk, before the dawn of the day.
Before the mist left and the sunlight touched the bay .
Before salty sea spray leap the tide that was high
Or birds that left the hills for their home in the sky .
Sore eyes look on their own and that's the reason why ,
I am left here alone by the cold cruel sea.
Lost sons of Erin when will they come home to me ?

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Your Gaelic Love

By Paul Mc Cann

Its just a graunabraugher feeling
from Mayfield to the Lee .
Boats and seagulls float on gaelic love you see .
Gaelic love is easy and so free .
It kicks and it hurls .
It swirls on the western wind
then flows out to sea .
Gaelic love is a gift and we share it with charity .

God bless the people there who live down by the Lee .
Church chimes ,
hard times,
Life's rough and it's tough down there by the Lee ,
but with a bit of gaelic love its all just such
a kind of graunabraugher feeling you see .
It's part of living the gaelic love .
Its being in the touch

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The Hunting Hare That Chases The Fox

 By Paul McCann

If you're out on a hunt with a hound ,
there’s a hare ,
that I've heard chases foxes,
so just you take care .
Of the crafty old hare that’s not really a hare,
but a horrible thing that you should just beware,
For it will drowned your hound,
then choke you by the throat,
take your wits and will ,
and make them into a coat .
Don't be fooled by the hare if you're up before dawn .
The name of the hare is Sean ,
the bold leprechaun !

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Fairies In The Fire
By Paul McCann

Round the little fire in the middle of the night,
something strange was happening ,
it was a rare sight to see the fairies playing
harps, fiddles, and pipes .
They danced the night away
with flames for party lights .
The flames leapt from the fire and danced with
all of them ,
jumping up and spinning round and around again .
The glow within the fire began to flicker out ,
the sparks had lost their crackle up the chimney spout .
One by one the fairies jumped into the fireplace,
just like that, they all disappeared without a trace .
The magic light had left but ashes for the day ,
dawn crept through the place where fairies of fire play .

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Silent Donaghadee 
By Paul McCann

Welcome to my dream ,
won't you come and walk with me ,
by the banks near Donaghadee .
I crossed the bridge to where shadows wander,
where the wild flowers dance so gracefully ,
as the wind blows the clouds in wonder ,
between the sunlit places,
a running stream ,
where corridors of trees line grassy banks there ,
beside a path that is shaded green ,
I cast my bread upon the water
and I heard the silent words that spoke to me .
Let your dreams fly to the sky and fall into space,
Dreams are free in Donaghadee .
It was then that I thought I should be leaving ,
so up into the sir I did fly ,
with my dreams I kept for the journey ,
I looked back and kissed Donaghadee goodbye .

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Shadows On The Shannon 
By Paul McCann

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