I came to a fair city, where the mists of the such close mountains lay.

Warm smiles, cold Guinness and the services of the 46A.

Greeted by them, both sides of their Liffy, on North and South,

Its waters flowing to a proud sea, through wide and gaping mouth.

A song, a dance, a joke were all on hand,

In this most welcoming but almost forgotten land.

Streets, lined with quaint old houses, stretch down to a wide and expansive bay.

Familiar, yet different, built in a time before independence had its day.

Love and peace surround you, hard to remember there was once a fight.

That’ll be grand and thanks a million play, I hear with such delight.

With books heaped in a National Library, patriotic to the page,

Soft  accents serenade the ear, with phrases from another age.

With punctuality less adhered to than our strict relentless clock,

Relaxed, keen to please, yet struggle to avoid their very own traffic gridlock.

Put on the hour, don’t fret. You will never arrive too late.

Prepare the meal, cue the music, dim the lights and still you wait.

It’s party time, enjoy the crack, all talk at once, into early hours you lurch.

But rest assured, to be sure, they’re bound to discuss their Catholic Church.

Inviting scents of soda bread and mussels fill the air,

Yet still they can’t resist a bet on her, their very favourite mare.

Passing strangers greet you, offering a warm and welcoming Irish Hello.

They look around the world to loudly declare that you’re their friend, not foe.

Euros replace the pound and kilometres the mile.

So are we now quite so close to this, their Emerald Isle.