Galway Bay

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If you ever go across the sea to Ireland,
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Then maybe at the closing of your day,
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You could sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh
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And see the sun go down on Galway Bay.
 
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Just to hear again the ripple of a trout stream,
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The women in the meadow making hay.
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Just to sit beside a turf-fire in the cabin,
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And to watch the barefoot gossoons at their play.
 
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For the breezes blowing o’er the seas from Ireland
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Are perfumed by the heather as they blow

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And the women in the uplands diggin’ praties
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Speak a language that the strangers do not know
 
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For the strangers came and tried to teach us their way,
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They scorn’d us just for being what we are,
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But they might as well go chasing after moonbeams,
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Or light a penny candle from a star.
 
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And if there's going to be a life hereafter,
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And somehow I'm sure there's going to be,
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I would ask my God to let me make my heaven,
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In that dear land across the Irish sea.