Words and music by Katell Keineg. If you could fill a veil with shells from Killiney's shore. And sweet talk in a tongue that is no more. If wishful thought could bridge. The Gulf of Araby. Between what is. What is. What is. And what can never be. If you could hold the frozen flow of New Hope Creek. And hide out from the one they said you might meet. If you could unlearn all the words. That you never wanted heard. If you could stall the southern wind. That's whistling in your ears. You could take what is. What is. What is. What is. To what can never be. One man of seventy whispers free at last. Two neighbors who are proud of their massacres. Three tyrants torn away in a winter's month. Four prisoners framed by a dirty judge. Five burned with tyres. Six men still inside. And seven more days to shake at the great divide. . The Gulf the Gulf of Araby. The Gulf the Gulf of Araby. Well we would plough and part the earth to bring you home. And harvest every miracle ever known. If they laid out all the things. That these ten years want to bring. We would gladly give them up. To bring you back to us. O there is nothing we would not give. To kiss you and believe you can take what is. What is. What is. To what can never be. One man of seventy whispers not free yet. Two neighbors who make up knee-deep in their dead. Three tyrants torn away in the summer's heat. Four prisoners lost in the fallacy. Five on my life. And six I'm dead inside. And seven more days to shake at the great divide. The Gulf the Gulf of Araby.