Ireland

There is a land that I can go to

When I have time to rest.

All the people I love are there

And those who love me best.

Then I heard the wind

Calling from over the sea

Saying, "Ireland, Ireland,

When will you be free?"

"Ireland, Ireland,

When will you be free?"

This land I go to when I'm tired

And need to see and walk in green.

The people who can laugh and drink

And see things others have not seen.

There is another side to this pure land,

A side of blood and guilt and pain

A side of enemy and friend

And sorrow at the hearth side stain.

There is a land that I can go to

When I have time to rest.

All the people I love are there

And those who love me best.

"Ireland, Ireland,

When will you be free?"

"Ireland, Ireland,

When will you be free?"