Текст:
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 meadows making hay
And to sit beside a turf fire in the cabin
And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play
(For the strangers 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 moonbeans
Or light a penny candle from a star
And if there is gonna to be a life hereafter
And somehow I am sure there's gonna be
I will ask my God to let me make my heaven
In that dear land across the Irish sea
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 meadows making hay
And to sit beside a turf fire in the cabin
And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play
(For the strangers 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 moonbeans
Or light a penny candle from a star
And if there is gonna to be a life hereafter
And somehow I am sure there's gonna be
I will ask my God to let me make my heaven
In that dear land across the Irish sea
