The ancestors whisper in my ears …
And the old country lives in my dreams,
Pleading with me to put to death,
The curse of their past history.
The Irish plague is now forgotten,
And the death boats are no more.
Here we stand on fertile ground…
And Ireland is larger than before.
Now… all of Erin’s children laugh and sing,
For they have food in their bellies,
And unceasing opportunities …
To pursue most of their aspirations.
Surely the old country lives in my genes
And one day clear, I will journey vast ocean,
To those Celtic shores and that Emerald Isle,
For the ancestors’ whisper me there…
And will I be reborn?
By Máire Ní Bhroin