Tom: D
Introdução:
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Listen now boys, my grandmother said -
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I'll tell you a story and then off to bed.
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There once was a time, we lived of the land,
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Harvest would come, and we all lent a hand.
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But winds blew our lives, and scattered our seeds.
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Changing the landscape, from flowers to weeds.
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See in the graveyard the families gone.
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The grandest of tombstones carry them on...
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When you sail from the Harbour,
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It's your last eyes of Ireland.
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We tended the fire, and faeries appeased
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the flames never died until we had to leave.
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And when we were gone, the house tumbled down
and covered our footprints, we'd left on the ground.
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When you sail from the Harbour,
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It's your last eyes of Ireland.
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My eyes are now tired and no longer see.
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But visions of Ireland linger in me.
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So carry your past in the rooms of your heart
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and you'll never be empty of love when you part...
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When you sail from the Harbour,
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It's your last eyes of Ireland.