The Foot of the Cross on the Comeragh Mountain

At the foot of Cross on the Comeragh's peak

Where whispered winds their solace seek,

Stands solemn, sturdy, against the sky,

A sentinel watching as time drifts by.

 

Carved in stone, weathered and old,

Tales untold in its silence hold.

The Comeragh Mountain, serene and tall,

Cradles this symbol, standing overall.

 

In misty shrouds or the golden hue,

The Cross endures, steadfast and true.

It marks the path for weary souls,

Guiding them towards their chosen goals.

 

Amidst the heather, the rocks, the streams,

It rains in silence, where silence gleams.

Stories etched in every line,

Echoes of faith through ancient time.

 

A beacon of hope in nature's embrace,

A guardian watching with timeless grace.

At the foot of Cross on the Comeragh's crest,

Rests a symbol enduring every test.

 

In the heart of mountains, where spirits roam,

The Cross stands tall, a place called home.

With every sunrise, with every night,

It stands as a testament to strength and light.

 

At the foot of Cross on the Comeragh's height,

A symbol of peace in day and night,

It whispers tales of the mountain's lore,

A sentinel, timeless forevermore.