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    be it only at the closing of your days
    You can sit and watch the moon rise over Cladaur
    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
    For to sit beside at her fire in a cavern
    And watch the bare-foot gossems at their play.

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    Oh the breeze is blowing o'er the sea from Ireland
    Are perfumed by the heather as they blow
    And the women in the uplands digging
    Speak a language that the strangers do not know.

    Oh, the strangers came and tried to teach us their ways
    They scorned us 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
    As somehow I feel 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

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Arthur Colahan

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