This is the song of the emigrant, full of longing and dreams of home
I've met some folksWho say that I'm a dreamerAnd I've no doubtThere's truth in what they sayBut sure a body's bound to be a dreamerWhen all the things he loves are far away
And precious thingsAre dreams unto an exileThey take him overThe land across the seaEspecially when it happens he's an exileFrom that dear lovely Isle of Inisfree
And when the moonlightPeeps across the rooftopsOf this great cityWondrous though it beI scarcely feel it's wonder or it's laughterI'm once again back home in Inisfree
I wonder over green hillsThrough dreamy valleysAnd find a peace, no other land would knowI hear the birds make music fit for angelsAnd watch the rivers laughingAs they flow
And then into a humble shack I wanderMy dear old home and tenderly beholdThe folks I loveAround the turf fire gatheredOn bended kneeTheir rosary is told
But dreams don't lastThough dreams are not forgottenAnd soon I'm back to stern realityBut though they paveThe foot ways here with gold dustI still would choose my Isle of Inisfree
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Richard Farrelly
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