If you ever go across the seas 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



To hear again the ripple of the trout stream

The women in the meadows making hay

To sit beside the turf fire in the cabin

And watch the barefoot goosoons 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 upland digging praties

Speak a language that the strangers do not know



For the strangers came and tried to teach us their ways

They scorned 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's 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 fair land beyond the Irish Sea