<br>

If you ever go across the sea to Ireland, <br />
then maybe at the closing of your day, <br />
you can sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh, <br />
and see the sun go down on Galway Bay. <br />
<br />
Just to hear again the ripple of the trout stream, <br />
The women in the meadow making hay, <br />
just to sit beside the turf fire in a cabin, <br />
and watch the barefoot gosoons as they play. <br />
<br />
ooooh...... <br />
<br />
For the breezes blowing o'er the sea's from Ireland, <br />
Are perfumed by the heather as they blow, <br />
And the women in the uplands digging praties, <br />
Speak a language that the strangers do not know. <br />
<br />
Yet the strangers came and tried to teach us their ways, <br />
And they scorned us just for being what we are, <br />
But they might as well go chasin after moon beams, <br />
or light a penny candle from a star. <br />
<br />
And if there's gonna be a life here after, <br />
And faith somehow I'm sure there's gonna be, <br />
I will ask my God to let me make my Heaven, <br />
In that dear land across the Irish sea. <br />
<br />
I will ask my God to let me make my Heaven, <br />
In my dear land across the Irish sea. <br />
<br />
oooooooh...... <br />
<br />
In my dear land across the Irish sea.

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