I heard an angry voice behind a drystone wall
At a beauty spot on out by Carron
"Go on, Get back to Dublin
You hippies don't belong here
Traipsin' round the Burren
Never spendin' very long here"

And the only thing that I could think to say was
We all belong here, this is our native shore
While I'm here I'd love to sing
A song in praise of Mullaghmore

I took a rocky road up Croagh Patrick
And a mossy path up Sliabh Gallion Braes
And I plunged in the deep at Brandon Creek
And slept in a glade beyond Dún Maebh

All alone along the Wicklow Way
Peace and solitude I found
When I reached the slopes of Mullaghmore
I could have sworn that was the holy ground

Minister, minister, pause for reflection
As you fly by helicopter in pursuit of re-election
An obsession with affairs of State and legislature
Leaves little time for us to share in the miracles of Nature
Like the fairy foxglove
And the rusty-back fern at Poll Na Gollum
The silver cranesbill
And columbine at Caher Connell

The juniper at Bellharbour
The wintergreen around Slaibh Carron
These miracles of nature
Surviving in the crevices of the Burren

There's gonna be sewerage schemes
And septic tanks, tarmac and concrete mixers
And rumours circling Co. Clare
Promising lots of nixers

And car parks to be levelled
Infills and elevations
And when the dust is settled
A handful of jobs and relations

Nature took two million years
To sculpture Mullaghmore
Carved from the ancient rock
By the freezing ice and snow

As the sun shines down on the mountain
At the broad Atlantic ocean
You can hear the small birds singing
On the Burren round Mullaghmore