Listen now boys,    my grandmother said -    I'll tell you a story and    then off to bed.    There once was a time,    we lived off the land.    Harvest would come,    and we all lent a hand       But winds blew our lives,    and scattered our seeds.    Changing the landscape,    from flowers to weeds.    See in the graveyard    the families gone.    The grandest of tombstones    carry them on...       When you sail from the Harbour,    It's your last eyes of Ireland.       We tended the fire,    and faeries appeased    the flame never died    until we had to leave.    And when we were gone,    the house tumbled down    and covered our footprints,    we'd left on the ground.       When you sail from the Harbour,    It's your last eyes of Ireland.         My eyes are now tired    and no longer see.    But visions of Ireland    linger in me.       So carry your past   in the rooms of your heart    and you'll never he empty    of love when you part       When you sail from the Harbour,    It's your last eyes of Ireland.