It may be some day I'll go back to Ireland

If it's only at the closing of my day

To see again the moon rise over Claddagh

And to watch the sun go down on Galway Bay

To see again the ripple of the trout stream

The women in the meadow saving hay

Just to sit beside a turf fire in the cabin

And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play

The winds that blow across the boats from Ireland

Are perfumed by the heather as they blow

And the women in the uplands diggin' praties

Speak a language that the strangers do not know

Yet the strangers came and tried to teach us their ways

And they blamed us too for bein' what we are

But they might as well go try and catch a moonbeam

Or to light a penny candle from a star

And if there's going to be a life hereafter

And 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