If you ever go across the sea to Ireland

Then maybe at the closing of your day

You will 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 meadows making hay

And to sit beside a turf fire in a cabin

And watch the barefoot gosoons at their play

For the breezes blowing o'er the sea to Ireland

Are perfumed by the heather as they blow

And the women in the uplands digging praties

Speak a language that the strangers do no know

For the strangers came and tried to teach us their ways

And scorned us just for being what we are

But they might as well be chasing after moonbeams

Or light a penny candle from a sta

And if there's going to be a life hereafte

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