Print

Galway Bay : To Uncle Ed, Boston, Mass.If you ever go across the sea to IrelandThen maybe at the closing of your dayYou will sit and watch the moon rise over CladdaghAnd see the sun go down on Galway BayJust to hear again the ripple of the trout streamThe women in the meadow making hayAnd to sit beside a turf fire in the cabinAnd watch the barefoot gossoons at their playFor the breezes blowing o'er the seas from IrelandAre perfumed by the heather as they bloomAnd the women in the uplands diggin' pratiesSpeak a language that the strangers do not knowFor the stranger came and tried to teach us their wayThey scorned us just for being what we areBut they might as well go chasing after moonbeamsOr light a penny candle from a starAnd if there's going to be a life hereafterAnd somehow I am sure there's going to beI will ask my god to let me make my heavenIn that dear land across the Irish sea From Letras Mania