Verse 1 Morning breathes on the emerald lea, mist like a drifting shawl Old stone fences stitch the hills where the small lambs call Hands that shaped these cairns long gone, their laughter in the loam Every ridge and every furrow remembers coming home Chorus Between stone and clover, I hear the old songs ring Wind in the hawthorn, the fiddler starts to sing Keepers of the pathways, keepers of the road Between stone and clover lies the story of our load Verse 2 Children run through nettle lanes, boots kicked up with cheer A milk pail by the gate, kettle singing, someone near Grey moss cracks where lovers carved the names they could not keep The river hums a lullaby to rocks that guard the sheep Chorus Between stone and clover, I hear the old songs ring Wind in the hawthorn, the fiddler starts to sing Keepers of the pathways, keepers of the road Between stone and clover lies the story of our load Bridge When rain writes silver down the lanes and the day goes soft and low The walls hold close the secrets that the young folk never know By moonlight, every boundary stone becomes a lantern bright Lighting up the faces of the hearts that learned to fight and write Verse 3 I carry home these memories, small as seeds in hand Plant them by the hedgerow where my father once did stand We trade our weary footsteps for the gold of hearth and flame And every stacked old boulder whispers back my name Chorus (slow, swelling) Between stone and clover, I hear the old songs ring Wind in the hawthorn, the fiddler starts to sing Keepers of the pathways, keepers of the road Between stone and clover lies the story of our load Outro So lay me by the fence-line where the green and granite meet Let the gulls and geese above me mark the pulse beneath my feet Between stone and clover, where the quiet rivers run I’ll sleep beside the fields I loved beneath the Irish sun