If you ever go across the sea to ireland,
Then maybe at the closing of your day,
You can sit and watch the moon rise over claddagh,
And see the sun go down on galway bay.
Just to hear again the ripple of the trout stream,
The women in the meadow making hay,
Just to sit beside the turf fire in a cabin,
And watch the barefoot gosoons as they play
For the breezes blowing o'er the sea's from
ireland,
Are perfumed by the heather as they blow,
And the women in the uplands digging praties
Speak a language that the strangers do not
Know.
Yet the strangers came and tried to teach u
S their ways,
And they scorned us just for being what we
Are,
But they might as well go chasin after moon
beams,
Or light a penny candle from a star.
And if there's gonna be a life here after,
And somehow i'm sure there's gonna be,
I will ask my god to let me make my heaven,
In that dear land across the irish sea.
I will ask my god to let me make my heaven,
In my dear land across the irish sea.