At the edge of the world there lies a green windswept island. An island deep-rooted in myth and legend. An island of gentle mist, and powerful storm.
It is a place of grand tradition and ancient custom; of poem song and story. The landscape whispers with heritage that tells gorgeous tales of troubled past, forgotten peoples and age-old gods.
A place of the druids, of beheaded kings, warrior queens, pursued lovers; a place of fairy forts, of hidden treasures, of rainbows.
A place the ancients called Eriu - a place we know and love as Ireland.
Ireland of the welcomes, Ireland of the music – a nation that pulses with tradition and passion. An Island of breathtaking colour – of purple mountain, sliver stream, golden sand and vibrant green.
An Island of living culture and changing character. Ireland of the hurl and puck. Of the million-stoned walls. Ireland of the hungry earth and bloody history that turfed it's people to the world. Ireland who homed the Viking vagabond and heard the footfalls of foreign invader echo through her centuries.
Ireland of cliff, keep and clochan. Ireland of mural, mountain and monk. Of passage tomb and trefoil green. Of parade and flag. Of cobbled street and shining spire.
Ireland of Gael, Saxon and Pole. Ireland of the welcomes. Ireland of culture. Island of character. Let Wolfhound show you Ireland's rich tapestry.
Amharghain (Ancient Irish poem)
I am an estuary into the sea, I am a wave of the ocean
I am the sound of the sea, I am a powerful ox
I am a hawk on a cliff, I am a dewdrop in the sun
I am a plant of beauty, I am a boar for valour
I am a salmon in a pool, I am a lake in a plain
I am the strength of art. I am Wolfhound.
I am Ireland.
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