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 watch the barefoot gossoons at their play      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 see the sun go down on Galway Bay      For the breezes blowing over the seas from Ireland   Are perfumed by the heather as they blow   And the women in the uplands diggin' prates   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 hereafter   And if 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