In County Sligo, where legends dwell,
A megalithic tale to tell,
Carrowmore’s ancient, mystic spell,
Where history’s secrets, softly swell.

On Cúil Irra’s Peninsula’s grace,
Where time has left its silent trace,
Carrowmore’s tombs, in tranquil space,
Whisper tales of an ancient race.

Five millennia’s shroud they wear,
Neolithic souls who once breathed air,
Beneath the stars, they found their lair,
In Carrowmore’s embrace, they share.

Tales of dolmens, giants’ repose,
In chambered stones, where history flows,
A portal to the past, it shows,
In Carrowmore’s heart, ancient prose.

Passage tombs, where sunbeams gleam,
Astronomical, their whispered theme,
Winter solstice, a sacred dream,
In Carrowmore’s embrace, they beam.

Stone circles stand in silent might,
Their purpose veiled in ancient light,
Ceremonial, cosmic flight,
In Carrowmore’s aura, they ignite.

A visitor’s center, history’s gate,
Guided tours, where memories wait,
Walking trails to appreciate,
In Carrowmore’s beauty, contemplate.

In Sligo town, a poet’s song,
W.B. Yeats’ echoes belong,
To the place where spirits throng,
From Carrowmore’s past, they prolong.

Knocknarea’s hill, so strong and steep,
A cairn atop, where legends keep,
Irish myths in secrets deep,
With Carrowmore’s echoes, they sweep.

Carrowmore Megalithic Cemetery’s grace,
An ancient world, time can’t erase,
Where history’s whispers find their place,
In Ireland’s heart, a sacred embrace.