I live away from my Homeland
But Ireland I still think of you.
Mangan the poet of your people
He once called you Dark Rosaleen
And people who visit you Ireland
Say you look lovely and green.
When the snow melts on the mountain
And April is fading to May
Ireland your wild birds are singing
In your green woods all the day.
Ireland your sons and your daughters
Are scattered all over the Earth
But you were the Land of their childhood
And you were the Land of their birth.
Ireland the land of Fionnuala
And of the great Fionn MacCumhaill
Men have stolen some of your beauty
For men in their ways can be cruel.
To have you as my Mother Country
I feel one of the chosen few
And though I live far from your borders
Ireland I still think of you.
One day I hope to return
To walk on your green fields by the hill
In Spring when the wild birds are singing
And flowers are blooming by the rill.
Far far away in Australia
The home of the wombat and the roo
Far from your bogs and your meadows
But Ireland I still think of you.