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 Glodagh, And see the sun go down on Galway Bay.

And if there's to be a life hereafter And somehow I'm 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.

Just to hear again the ripple of the trout stream and the women in the meadows making hay, to sit beside the turf fire in the cabin and watch the barefoot gossams at their play.

For the breezes blowin' o'er the sea from Ireland are perfumed by the heather as they blow And the women in the upland diggin' tatties speak a language that the strangers do not know.

For the stangers came and tried to teach us their way. They scorned us just for bein' what we are. But they might as well go chasin' after moonbeams Or light a penny candle from a star.

And if there's to be a life hereafter, And somehow I'm 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.