This is one of Garry’s most popular songs – particularly at this time of year.
You say tradition counts for naught when two teams take the field,
I fear you are mistaken, lad, but the years will make you yield,
And when your hair’s as grey as mine, and time has made you old,
Then you’ll invoke the truth I spoke of the Kingdom’s green and gold.
You cannot box or bottle it, nor grasp it in your hand,
But pride of race and love of place inspire a love of land
Time honoured is our birthright, we’ll never break the mould,
It’s deep within the soul of us, who wear the green and gold.
Grey lakes and mountains soaring high, Mount Brandon‘s holy hill,
The little church at Gallarus, our language living still,
The Skellig Rock, stout football stock, they can’t be bought or sold,
For our county’s fame, we play the game in the Kingdom’s green and gold.
And when the battle’s fiercest and the fortunes ebb and flow,
We’re still alive, we can survive, we never will let go,
For the spirit of our fathers and of stories yet untold,
Will lead us on to victory, in the Kingdom’s green and gold.
We savour Kerry victories, we salute a gallant foe
And when we lose, there’s no excuse, we pick up our bags and go,
So raise your glass each lad and lass to our warriors brave and bold,
Who again aspire to the Sam Maguire in the Kingdom’s green and gold.