Maybe someday you'll go
back again to Ireland
If only at the closing
of your day
You can sit and watch
the moon rise over Claddagh
And watch the sun go down
on Galway Bay
To see again the ripple
of the trout stream
The women in the meadows
makin' hay
And to sit beside a turf fire
in the cabin
And watch the barefoot
gossoons at their play
Oh the breezes blowing o'er
the seas from Ireland
Are perfumed by the heather
as they blow
And the old men in the uplands
diggin' praties
Speak the language that the
strangers do not know
Oh 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 dear land
across the Irish sea