Cork - The River and the Bells

By the Lee in evening light,
Where the bridges hold the town,
The river moves through Cork tonight,
And the bells come drifting down.

The River Lee runs silver bright,
Through quay and bridge and stone,
It folds the city in its arms,
And makes an island home.

Old streets lean close to morning rain,
Red roofs catch the sun,
And every lane remembers names
Of those who walked and won.

And over roofs and river,
Through market, wall and street,
The bells of Shandon answer
With a sound both old and sweet.

Cork, Cork, by the River Lee,
Where the bells ring over town,
Through stone and rain, through light and tide,
Your quiet song comes down.

Cork, Cork, in the western air,
With the river at your feet,
From Shandon tower to Fin Barre's spires,
Your heart still keeps the beat.

By St Anne's tower the music turns,
Above the northern hill,
The Shandon Bells keep calling out,
Across the city still.

St Fin Barre's Cathedral rises,
With spires against the sky,
A Christian memory shaped in stone,
Where prayers have travelled by.

Cork, Cork, by the River Lee,
Where the bells ring over town,
Through stone and rain, through light and tide,
Your quiet song comes down.

Cork, Cork, in the western air,
With the river at your feet,
From Shandon tower to Fin Barre's spires,
Your heart still keeps the beat.

The English Market wakes with voices,
Bread and fish and morning trade,
Old Cork gathers at the counters,
Where daily life is made.

Elizabeth Fort keeps watch above,
Where city stories climb,
And old walls whisper through the streets
Of weather, work and time.

Not every light is loud or golden,
Some shine softly through the rain,
Christ-light resting in the doorways,
Mercy walking every lane.

In humble homes and market mornings,
In river mist and bells that call,
The city keeps a gentle memory,
Wide enough to carry all.

So let the river carry footsteps,
Past the bridges, shops and quays,
Let the bells rise over rooftops,
Let them travel on the breeze.

For Cork is more than walls and water,
More than names the guidebooks tell,
It is a living city singing
Where the river meets the bell.

Cork, Cork, by the River Lee,
Where the bells ring over town,
Through stone and rain, through light and tide,
Your quiet song comes down.

Cork, Cork, in the western air,
With the river at your feet,
From Shandon tower to Fin Barre's spires,
Your heart still keeps the beat.

River, tower, market, stone,
Every bridge and bell is known,
By the Lee, through rain that falls,
Cork still sings through streets and walls.

By the river and the bells,
Cork remembers what it tells.