Celtic Woman
Lyricist: Composer:
I've met some folks who say that I'm a dreamer,
And I've no doubt there's truth in what they say,
But sure a body's bound to be a dreamer,
When all the things he loves are far away
And precious things are dreams unto an exile
They take him o'er the land across the sea
Especially when it happens he's an exile,
From that dear lovely Isle of Inisfree
And when the moonlight peeps across the rooftops,
Of this great city, wondrous though it be,
I scarcely feel its wonder or its laughter . . .
I'm once again back home in Inisfree
I wander o'er green hills through dreamy valleys,
And find a peace no other land would know
I hear the birds make music fit for angels,
And watch the rivers laughing as they flow
And then into a humble shack I wander
My dear old home and tenderly behold,
The folks I love around the turf fire, gathered
On bended knees, their rosary is told
But dreams don't last
Though dreams are not forgotten
And soon I'm back to stern reality
But though they pave the footways here with gold dust,
I still would choose my Isle of Inisfree