If you ever go

across the sea

to Ireland

If only at the

closing of

your day

You can sit and

watch the moon

rise over Cladagh

And watch the sun

go down on

Galway Bay

To see again the

ripple of the

trout stream

The women in

the meadow

making hay

And to sit

beside a turf fire

in the cabin

And watch the

barefoot gossoons

at their play

Oh the breezes

blowing o'er the

sea to Ireland

Are perfumed by

the heather

as they blow

And the old men

in the uplands

digging praties

Speak a language

that the strangers

do not know

For the strangers

came and tried to

teach us their way

They scorned us

just for being

what we are

But they might

as well go chasing

after moonbeams

Or light a

penny candle

from a star

And if there's

going to be a

life hereafter

And somehow

I am sure there's

going to be

I will ask

my God to let me

make my heaven

In that dear land

across the

Irish Sea