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 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 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 For the strangers came And tried to 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 here after 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 For the strangers came And tried to teach us their way They scorned us just for being what we