These are the original lyrics:

THE   LAND OF THE   GAEL

I wish I was westward of Dingle on the golden sands of Béal Bán
Where I'd wait for the mountain of Brandon, to appear in the red light of dawn,
I'd gaze over Smerwick Harbour, see the yacht with its billowing sail,
My body is here in the Bowery, by my heart's in the Land of the Gael.

Too free with the juice of the barley it softens my will and my brain
And whenever I save a few dollars, I fall off the wagon again,
But I'm thinking of Kerry in Ireland, the Blaskets and fair Ceann Sibéal,
When the sun is a red ball of fire, as it sets on the Land of the Gael.

In my mind's eye I see every detail her mountains, valleys and seas,
The butterfly dancing a hornpipe, the thistledown flying in the breeze,
The fuschia, loosestrife and cowparsley, the primrose that blooms in the vale,
I'll pick the wild flowers in the Summer time when I'm back in the Land of the Gael.

Now the wind like a knife it goes through me and with hunger I'm ready to fall,
And the snowflakes are swirling around me as I head for the Church Mission Hall,
I hear the sweet song of the skylark, and I list to the curlew's sad wail,
As over the ocean they call me to come back to the Land of the Gael.

For it's fifty long years since I left it, a young fellow still in my teens,
Did I ever return now you ask me - I go back every night in my dreams,
Yes the call of my homelandâ's all powerful, and I'm certain this time I'll not fail,
Then I'll hear my own tongue and again I'll be young when I'm home in the Land of the Gael.

© Garry McMahon (all rights reserved)