Galway Bay : To Uncle Ed, Boston, Mass.



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 Claddagh

And see the sun go down on Galway Bay

Just to hear again the ripple of the trout stream

The women in the meadow making hay

And to sit beside a turf fire in the cabin

And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play

For the breezes blowing o'er the seas from Ireland

Are perfumed by the heather as they bloom

And the women in the uplands diggin' praties

Speak a language that the strangers do not know

For the stranger came and tried to teach us their way

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 dear land across the Irish sea