X-ISLE 00

By myself I'd be in Árd Tí Cuain

Where the mountain stands away

And ’tis I would let the Sunday go

In the cuckoo’s glen above the bay

Agus, och och Éire lig is o

Éire lionndubh agus o

Ah, the quiet land of Érin

Ah my heart is weary all alone

And it sends a lonely cry

To the land that sings beyond my dreams

And the lonely Sundays pass me by

I would travel back the twisted years

In the bitter wasted winds

If the God above would let me lie

In a quiet place above the winds

. . .