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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
Or to sit beside a turf fire in the cabin
And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play.

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

Oh, the strangers came and tried to teach their way
They scorn'd us just for being what we are
But they might as well go chasing after moon beams
Or light a penny candle from a star.

And if there's going to be a life hereafter
That somehow I feel 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 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 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   Or to sit beside a turf fire in the cabin   And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play.      For the breezes blowing o'er the seas from Ireland   Are perfum'd by the heather as they blow   And the women in the uplands diggin' praties   Speak a language that the strangers do not know.      Oh, the strangers came and tried to teach their way   They scorn'd us just for being what we are   But they might as well go chasing after moon beams   Or light a penny candle from a star.      And if there's going to be a life hereafter   That somehow I feel 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 that dear land across the Irish sea...