Verse 1 There’s a mist on the lough at the break of the dawn, Where the oak keeps its counsel and the old church stands on, Stone worn like a heartbeat by the feet of the years, And the river remembers the shape of our tears. Down in the hollows where the wild grasses sigh, Little lamps are a-twinklin’ where the shadows pass by, They tend to the heather, the thorn and the fern, For the land has a promise the wee people learn. Chorus Rise up, rise up, ye keepers so fair, Keep Gougane Barra golden and rare. With a whisper, a footfall, a blessing at night, They guard every valley, each stream and each light. Dance round the cairn where the bluebells are hung, Sing for the old ways, the new songs unsung, Hold fast to the green where the wild waters run — O keep Gougane Barra beautiful, lovely and rare. Verse 2 St. Finbarr’s shadow rests soft on the stone, And the gulls tell the story in a voice all their own, The bog sends a shiver where the spring-flowers sleep, And the sidhe bend their heads where the willows weep. Leave a clover and crumb at the crossroads of dawn, Mind your step by the tor where the fox has gone on, For the fair folk are watchin’ from ringfort and glen, With a wink for the wise and an eye for the men. Chorus Rise up, rise up, ye keepers so fair, Keep Gougane Barra golden and rare. With a whisper, a footfall, a blessing at night, They guard every valley, each stream and each light. Dance round the cairn where the bluebells are hung, Sing for the old ways, the new songs unsung, Hold fast to the green where the wild waters run — O keep Gougane Barra beautiful, lovely and rare. Bridge When the wind tells its secrets through furze and through thorn, And the moon makes a mirror on the bank where we’re born, You’ll hear fiddle and flute from a place out of sight, Where the past keeps on turning and the future feels right. They’re mending the hedgerows with silver and moss, Stitching back summers that sorrow had lost, No coin in their pockets, no crown on their hair, Only care for the valleys and sky and the air. Verse 3 So come, weary traveler, lay down your load, Let the peat-smoke remind you of song and of road, The oak will forgive you, the lough will embrace, And the wee folk will guide you with slow, gentle grace. For the island is small but the promise is wide — That the heart of the country will never be tied, As long as a whisper and a footstep remain, Gougane Barra stands lovely, unblemished by pain. Final Chorus Rise up, rise up, ye keepers so fair, Keep Gougane Barra golden and rare. With a whisper, a footfall, a blessing at night, They guard every valley, each stream and each light. Dance round the cairn where the bluebells are hung, Sing for the old ways, the new songs unsung, Hold fast to the green where the wild waters run — O keep Gougane Barra beautiful, lovely and rare.