Galaway Bay

Galaway Bay - Monsignor William Hodge/Bill Zimmerman

If you ever go across the sea to Ireland

Then maybe at the closing of your day

You will sit and watch the sun rise over claddagh

And see the sun go down on galaway bay

Just to hear again the ripple of the trout stream

The women in the meadow making hay

And to sit beside the turf fire in a cabin

And watch the barefoot gosoons as they play

For the breezes blowing o'er the sea's from Ireland

Are perfumed by the heather as they blow

And the women in the uplands digging praties

Speak a language that the strangers do not know

All the strangers came and tried to teach us their ways

They played us just for being what we are

But they might as well go chasin' after moon beams

Or light a penny candle from a star

And if there's going to be a life here after

And somehow I'm know there's going to be

I will ask my god to let me make my heaven

In that dear land across the Irish sea