If you ever go across the sea to Ireland Be it only at the closing of your day You can sit and watch the moon rise over Cladagh And see the sun go down on Galway Bay.
Just to see again the ripple on the trout stream The women in the meadow making hay. Or to sit beside a turf fire in a cabin And watch the bare-foot gasuns at their play.
Oh the breezes blowing o'er the sea from Ireland Are perfumed by the heather as they blow. And the women in the uplands diggin' pratties Speak a language that the strangers do not know.
Oh the strangers came and tried to teach us their ways They scorned us 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 feel sure there's going to be. I will ask my Got to let me spend my heaven In that dear land across the Irish sea.