Celtic Woman

If you ever go across the sea to Ireland
Then may at the closing of your day
You can 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 meadows making hay
Just 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 blow
And the women in the uplands diggin’ praties