| St Kevin walks down the path
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| See a sign for Lynhams Pub and Glendalough this way
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| He steps in with caution look around
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| The boys from Clara Lara just in from bailing hay
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| He seated in the corner sipping a drop of the black stuff
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| And whiskey they beckon him a cheers
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| In steps Tony Murphy and with a smile they tip a glass
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| He tells him of the years
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| They come from all the Nations to hear your story told
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| Like the fog that curls around the hills
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| Life and death they do behold
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| Your words still speak of promise
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| Forever they will flock
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| The valley, the tower, the church and the lakes
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| The vale of Glendalough
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| Young Murphy tells Kevin of the legends
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| Father Cronin always said an angel child was he
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| The truth is all written in Acta Santorum
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| Let’s have another glass and I’ll drink a pint with thee
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| We talked on into the night, the barman said it’s time me lads
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| So we stepped out in the cold
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| In the moonlight as the rain was lashing down
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| They danced a merry jig with ghosts of old
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| They come from all the Nations to hear your story told
 | 
| Like the fog that curls around the hills
 | 
| Life and death they do behold
 | 
| Your words still speak of promise
 | 
| Forever they will flock
 | 
| The valley, the tower, the church and the lakes
 | 
| The vale of Glendalough
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| Oh what a sight, this valley is enchanted land
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| Oh what a dream, the people really care
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| Oh where am I? | 
| Give us a glass of the black stuff
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| We’ll walk the misty road and say a prayer
 | 
| Your words still speak of promise
 | 
| Forever they will flock
 | 
| The valley, the tower, the church and the lakes
 | 
| The vale of Glendalough |