My Irish King
Click here to listen to "My Irish King" Pink lipstick to a lace glove.
Gone in the wind to Dublin.
Hopeful to touch the lips of my love.
The man of my dreams the king of Tara.
Miles of stone fences hold my love in.
Shall the Swans in the ice blue lake free him.
Beautiful green velvet meadows of hungry loved souls
Grey castles of shallow holes never to be whole.