If you ever go across the sea to Ireland
Then maybe at the closing of your day;
You will sit and watch the moonrise 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 the cabin
And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play
For the breezes blowing o'er the seas from Ireland
Are perfum'd by the heather as they blow;
And the women in the uplands diggin' praties
Speak a language that the strangers do not know
For the strangers came and tried to teach their way]
They scorn'd us just 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 is going to be a life hereafter
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.
