If you ever go across the sea to Ireland
Then maybe at the closing of your day
You can 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 meadow making hay
Just to sit beside a turf fire in the cabin
And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play.

For the breezes blowing o'er the sea from Ireland
Are perfumed by the heather as they blow
And the women in the uplands digging praties
Speak a language that the strangers do not know.

Yet the strangers came and tried to teach us their way
And 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 is going to be a life hereafter
And faith, somehow I'm 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.
I will ask my God to let me make my heaven
In my dear land across the Irish sea.

In my dear land across the Irish sea...

Thanks to Kimberly