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 Cladagh
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 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 not know.
For the strangers tried top come and teach us their way
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 somehow I am sure there's going to be,
I shall ask my God to let me make my heaven
In that dear land across the Irish Sea.
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 Cladagh
And see the sun go down on Galway Bay
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
