of Irish blood

swelling deep

inside your heart

And your feet

can’t keep from tapping

when a fiddler

plays his part

If your tempers

known to rise, and fall

like waves on

Irish seas

And your not afraid

to shed a tear,

or pray

down on your knees

If 3 pints

of bitter porter

sooths the troubles

from your soul

and the lilt

of friendly laughter

makes your own

hard to control

If you’ve found

That Irish whiskey

gives new eyesight

to the blind

And you’ve roamed

our rocky backroads

just to see

what you could find

If you’ve heard

The “Gael” a’calling

from the mists

on Galway’s bay

Then come ye home

to Ireland ,

for it’s here

that ye should stay.