In the land of Tir na Og


Once upon a time in the land of tir na og
Where luscious strawberries beam
and scrumptious apples grow.
Where a dizzy stream does stroll
while lazy, giddy jackdaws crow.
The sun it dripped and painted
heated heather gold.

Rising from its bed
a chorus of a million tongues
With a morning inhale and to fill their welcome lungs
An orchestra from heaven
announced another day
As the flowers exploded in unison,
their own unique bouquet.

Whistling and burrowing,
Jumping and scurrying
Washing and drying,
Singing and crying
Running and crawling,
Whispering and bawling
Ducking and hiding,
Playing and fighting
Swimming and grooming,
Growing and blooming

What an exhaustive, busy, perfect day.
How could you ever want it, any other way?

Tír na nÓg ([tʲiːɾˠ n̪ˠə ˈn̪ˠoːɡ]; Old Irish: Tír inna n-Óc “The Land of the Young”) is the most popular of the Otherworlds in Irish mythology.

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