Ulster, Land of Sorrow and Spirit

In the shadow of the Mournes where the wind it cuts so cold.

The land of Ulster whispers tales of hearts both brave and bold. Through the fields

of green now broken, with the scars of battles won. The ghosts of

days gone by still walk beneath the rising sun. Oh,

Ulster, land of sorrow, where the rivers run with tears. Through the years

of fire and thunder, still your spirit won't disappear. In the silence

of the valleys and the storm that's yet to prove. Ulster,

we remember what you've borne and still pursue. In Belfast, smoke still lingers,