If you ever go across the seas to Ireland  Then maybe at the closing of your day  You will sit and watch the moonrise over Claddagh  And see the sun go down on Galway Bay    To hear again the ripple of the trout stream  The women in the meadows making hay  To sit beside the turf fire in the cabin  And watch the barefoot goosoons at their play    Oh. the breezes blowing o'er the sea from Ireland  Are perfumed by the heather as they blow  And the women in the upland digging praties  Speak a language that the strangers do not know    For 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 fair land beyond the Irish Sea