#i still would choose the isle of innisfree

[tatsuki-fujimotos-toe-beans]

So I was watching this YouTube video on love triangles where the girl in the video mentions the hunger games and how katniss had to choose between Peeta and gale and I didn't stay to listen to the whole video because this thought struck me and I had to get it down immediately.

I read the hunger games when I was like 14. Still very much not functioning as a human being. At the time I was really not into romance and still in the "kissing is icky" type phase.

I remembered seeing that katniss had to make that choice and I don't think Peeta or gale ever butted heads really so it wasn't exactly twilight or like what I would have imagined a stereotypical love triangle to be like.

I remembered she chose Peeta and I was kinda surprised because I was sure she'd go for her childhood friend because that just seemed obvious to me at the time. Like gale has known her for longer and they've spent so much more time together?

But she chose Peeta and I read a bit further and found the description of their life together and I thought back to the president snow/president coin scene.

She didn't want this. She didn't want to live such a high flying celebrity life where she was the arbiter of major world decisions. She wanted a quiet, peaceful life and Peeta offered her just that.

I'm looking at the world today with all of its stuff going on. Genocide, war, LGBT and women's rights being eroded, so many protests so often. I realized I don't want this.

I don't want to be an activist. I don't want to have to constantly fight for my right to exist. I just want a peaceful life. Something like the lake Isle of innisfree by W B Yeats.

I realized if I was katniss, there wasn't even a choice. I'd go with Peeta every time.

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“As I came back through Dublin City As the sun began to set Who should I spy but the Spanish Lady Catching a moth in a golden net First she saw me then she fled me Lifting her petticoat over her knee In all me life I ne’er did see A maid so shy as the Spanish Lady... I've wandered north and I’ve wonder south Through Stoney Barter and Patrick's close Up and around by the Gloucester Diamond And back by Napper Tandys' house... Auld age has laid her hands on me Cold as a fire of ashy coals  In all me life I ne’er did see A maid so sweet about the soul...”

[yvkkao-blog]

Family Proverbs & Poetry Anthology

Family Proverbs (we don’t have many, I’m afraid):

-If you fall, pick up a handful of dirt (to keep) on the way back up.

-We’re slow, but we finish.

-Kaos are not quitters.

-Penny wise and pound foolish

I do love poetry, but I will admit that I have some unconventional ones and a couple of song poems. I think they count, and they have meaning to me.

#1) My first poem find to share:

William Butler Yeats – “The Lake Isle of Innisfree”

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

      And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

     I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

#2) Poem #2 – Cyrus Cassells’s “Return to Florence” 

How do I convey the shoring gold

at the core of the Florentine bells’

commingled chimes? 

     Vast as a suddenly revealed

field of wheat,

that up-and-away gold

is equivalent to the match-burst

morning I returned,

intent as doubting Thomas,

to my old classroom terrace,

open to the showy, blue yes

of the bustling Arno,

to my timeless, sun-laved

Basilica of Santo Spirito,

and discovered

ebullient citizens reciting,

at a hundred different posts,

the same unbetraying passage

of Dante’s Paradise.

#3) Song: “Danny Boy”

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling

From glen to glen, and down the mountain side

The summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying

’Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide. 

     But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow

Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow

’Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow

Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so. 

     And if you come, when all the flowers are dying

And I am dead, as dead I well may be

You’ll come and find the place where I am lying

And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me. 

     And I shall hear, tho’ soft your tread above me

And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be

If you’ll not fail to tell me that you love me

I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me. 

     I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

#4) Walt Whitman’s “Song of the Open Road”

1 Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.  Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, Strong and content I travel the open road.  The earth, that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where they are, I know they suffice for those who belong to them.  (Still here I carry my old delicious burdens, I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go, I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them, I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)  

2 You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all that is here, I believe that much unseen is also here.  Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial, The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas’d, the illiterate person, are not denied; The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics, The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the eloping couple,  The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the town, the return back from the town, They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can be interdicted, None but are accepted, none but shall be dear to me. 

3 You air that serves me with breath to speak! You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape! You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers! You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides! I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to me.  You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges! You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships!  You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d façades! you roofs! You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards! You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much! You doors and ascending steps! you arches! You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings! From all that has touch’d you I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me, From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me. 

4 The earth expanding right hand and left hand, The picture alive, every part in its best light, The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted, The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of the road.  O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me? Do you say Venture not—if you leave me you are lost? Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied, adhere to me?  O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you, You express me better than I can express myself, You shall be more to me than my poem.  I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all free poems also, I think I could stop here myself and do miracles, I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me, I think whoever I see must be happy. 

5 From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines, Going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently,but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me. I inhale great draughts of space, The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.  I am larger, better than I thought, I did not know I held so much goodness.  All seems beautiful to me, I can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me I would do the same to you, I will recruit for myself and you as I go, I will scatter myself among men and women as I go, I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them, Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me, Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me. 

6 Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear it would not amaze me, Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d it would not astonish me.  Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons, It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.  Here a great personal deed has room, (Such a deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men, Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law and mocks all authority and all argument against it.)  Here is the test of wisdom, Wisdom is not finally tested in schools, Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it to another not having it, Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof, Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content, Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things; Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the soul.  Now I re-examine philosophies and religions, They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents.  Here is realization, Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him, The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.  Only the kernel of every object nourishes; Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me? Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?  Here is adhesiveness, it is not previously fashion’d, it is apropos; Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved by strangers? Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?  

7 Here is the efflux of the soul, The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower’d gates, ever provoking questions, These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are they? Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight expands my blood? Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank? Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me? (I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and always drop fruit as I pass;) What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers? What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side? What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I walk by and pause? What gives me to be free to a woman’s and man’s good-will? what gives them to be free to mine?  

8 The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness, I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times, Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.  Here rises the fluid and attaching character, The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of man and woman, (The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet continually out of itself.)  Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the love of young and old, From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments, Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.  

9 Allons! whoever you are come travel with me! Traveling with me you find what never tires.  The earth never tires, The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first, Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop’d, I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.  Allons! we must not stop here, However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling we cannot remain here, However shelter’d this port and however calm these waters we must not anchor here, However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted to receive it but a little while.  

10 Allons! the inducements shall be greater, We will sail pathless and wild seas, We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper speeds by under full sail.  Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements, Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity; Allons! from all formules! From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests.  The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer.  Allons! yet take warning! He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance, None may come to the trial till he or she bring courage and health, Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself, Only those may come who come in sweet and determin’d bodies, No diseas’d person, no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here.  (I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes, We convince by our presence.)  

11 Listen! I will be honest with you, I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes, These are the days that must happen to you: You shall not heap up what is call’d riches, You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve, You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d, you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart, You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you, What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting, You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you.  

12 Allons! after the great Companions, and to belong to them! They too are on the road—they are the swift and majestic men—they are the greatest women, Enjoyers of calms of seas and storms of seas, Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land, Habituès of many distant countries, habituès of far-distant dwellings, Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers, Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore, Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children, Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers-down of coffins, Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years, the curious years each emerging from that which preceded it, Journeyers as with companions, namely their own diverse phases, Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days, Journeyers gayly with their own youth, journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood, Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content, Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood, Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe, Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.  

13 Allons! to that which is endless as it was beginningless, To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights, To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights they tend to, Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys, To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it, To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it, To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you, however long but it stretches and waits for you, To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither, To see no possession but you may possess it, enjoying all without labor or purchase, abstracting the feast yet not abstracting one particle of it, To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens, To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through, To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go, To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter them, to gather the love out of their hearts, To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave them behind you, To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for traveling souls.  All parts away for the progress of souls, All religion, all solid things, arts, governments—all that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners before the procession of souls along the grand roads of the universe.  Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance.  Forever alive, forever forward, Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied, Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men, They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go, But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.  Whoever you are, come forth! or man or woman come forth! You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you.  Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen! It is useless to protest, I know all and expose it.  Behold through you as bad as the rest, Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people, Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces, Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.  No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession, Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes, Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors, In the cars of railroads, in steamboats, in the public assembly, Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bedroom, everywhere, Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones, Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers, Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself, Speaking of any thing else but never of itself.  

14 Allons! through struggles and wars! The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.  Have the past struggles succeeded? What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? Nature? Now understand me well—it is provided in the essence of things that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.  My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion, He going with me must go well arm’d, He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertions.  

15 Allons! the road is before us! It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well—be not detain’d!  Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d! Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d! Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher! Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.  Camerado, I give you my hand! I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me? Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

#5) J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Roads Go Ever On”

Roads go ever ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea; Over snow by winter sown, And through the merry flowers of June, Over grass and over stone, And under mountains in the moon. Roads go ever ever on, Under cloud and under star. Yet feet that wandering have gone Turn at last to home afar. Eyes that fire and sword have seen, And horror in the halls of stone Look at last on meadows green, And trees and hills they long have known. The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way, Where many paths and errands meet. The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with weary feet, Until it joins some larger way, Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say. The Road goes ever on and on Out from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone. Let others follow, if they can! Let them a journety new begin. But I at last with weary feet Will turn towards the lighted inn, My evening-rest and sleep to meet. Still 'round the corner there may wait A new road or secret gate; And though I oft have passed them by, A day will come at last when I Shall take the hidden paths that run West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“My song for you this evening It’s not to make you sad Nor for adding to the sorrows Of our troubled northern land... But lately I've been thinking And it just won't leave my mind I'll tell you of two friends one time Who were both good friends of mine... Now Isaac he was Protestant And Sean was Catholic born But it never made a difference For the friendship it was strong... And sometimes in the evening When we heard the sound of drums We said it won't divide us We will always be as one... There were roses Roses There were roses And the tears of a people ran together... It was on a Sunday morning When the awful news came 'round Another killing had been done Just outside Newry town... We knew that Isaac danced up there We knew he liked the band But when we heard that he was dead We just could not understand... Now fear it filled the countryside There was fear in every home When late at night a car came Prowling 'round the Ryan Road... A Catholic would be killed tonight To even up the score Oh Christ it's young Macdonald They have taken from the door... There were roses Roses There were roses And the tears of a people ran together... Isaac was my friend, he cried He begged them with his tears But centuries of hatred Have ears that do not hear An eye for an eye It was all that filled their minds And another eye for another eye Till everyone is blind... Now I don't know where the moral is Or where this song should end But I wonder just how many wars Are fought between good friends... And those who give the orders Are not the ones to die It's Scott and young Macdonald And the likes of you and I... There were roses Roses There were roses And the tears of the people ran together... There were roses Roses Roses And the tears of the people ran together... ”

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“When first I saw the love light in your eyes I dreamt the world held not but joy for me And even though we drifted far apart I never dream but what I dreamed of thee... I love you as I've never loved before Since first I met you on the village green Come to me e'er my dream of love is o'er I love you as I loved you when you were sweet When you were sweet sixteen... Last night I dreamt I held your hand in mine And once again you were my happy bride I kissed you as I did in Auld Lang Syne As to the church we wandered side by side... I love you as I've never loved before Since first I met you on the village green Come to me e'er my dream of love is o'er I love you as I loved you when you were sweet When you were sweet sixteen...”

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“There's a tear in your eye And I'm wondering why For it never should be there at all With such pow'r in your smile Sure a stone you'd beguile So there's never a teardrop should fall When your sweet lilting laughter's Like some fairy song And your eyes twinkle bright as can be You should laugh all the while And all other times smile And now smile a smile for me...”

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“When all beside a vigil keep The West’s asleep! The West’s asleep! Alas! and well may Erin weep When Connacht lies in slumber deep There lakes and plains smile fair and free ‘Mid rocks their guardian chivalry Sing Oh! let man learn liberty From crashing wind and lashing sea… That chainless wave and lovely land Freedom nationhood demand Be sure the great God never planned For slumb'ring slaves a home so grand And long a brave and haughty race Honoured and sentinelled the place Sing Oh! not even sons’ disgrace Can quite destroy their glory’s trace… For often in O'Connor’s van To triumph dashed each Connacht clan And fleet as deer the Normans ran Thro’ Corrsliabh Pass and Ardrahan And later times saw deeds as brave And glory guards Clanricard’s grave Sing Oh! they died their land to save At Aughrim’s slopes and Shannon’s wave… And if when all a vigil keep The West’s asleep! The West’s asleep! Alas! and well may Erin weep When Connacht lies in slumber deep But hark! a voice like thunder spake The West’s awake! The West’s awake! Sing Oh! hurrah! let England quake We’ll watch till death for Erin’s sake…”  

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“I took all of his money and it was a pretty penny I took all of his money and I brought it home to Molly She swore that she loved me never would she leave me But the devil take that women for she knows she treat me easy…  Me, I like sleepin’ ‘Specially in my Molly’s chamber But here I am in prison – Here I am on the ball and chain yeah…”

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“Is cosúil gur mheath tú Nó gur thréig tú an greann Tá an sneachta go freasach Fá bhéal na mbeann' Do chúl buí daite Is do bhéilín sámh Siúd chugaibh Máire Chinidh 'S í 'ndiaidh an Éirne 'shnámh...  A mháithrín mhilis Duirt Máire Bhán Fá bhruach an chladaigh 'S fá bhéal na trá Maighdean mhara, mo mhaithrín ard Siúd chugaibh Máire Chinidh 'S í 'ndiaidh an Éirne 'shnámh...  Tá mise tuirseach Agus beidh go lá Mo Mháire bhroinngheal 'S mo Phádraig bán Ar bharr na dtonna 'S fá bhéal na trá Siúd chugaibh Máire Chinidh 'S í 'ndiaidh an Éirne 'shnámh...”

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“A hungry feeling came o'er me stealing And the mice were squealing in my prison cell And the auld triangle went jingle jangle All along the banks of the royal canal... To begin the morning the screw was bawling ‘Get up, ya bowsie, and clean up your cell’ And the auld triangle went jingle jangle All along the banks of the royal canal... The screw was peeping, Humpy Gussy was sleeping As I lay there dreaming of my girl Sal And the auld triangle went jingle jangle All along the banks of the royal canal...Up in the female prison there are seventy-five women And 'tis among them I wish I did dwell Then the auld triangle could go jingle jangle All along the banks of the royal canal All along the banks of the royal canal...”

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“The Queen of Hearts still baking tarts And I not making hay Well I loved too much by such and such Is happiness thrown away… I gave her the gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign That’s known to all the artists who have Known true Gods of Sound and Stone…”

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“Ireland Ireland Together standing tall Shoulder to shoulder We'll answer Ireland's call.. Come the day and come the hour Some will live in song and stories We were born to follow our guiding star And to meet our destiny with glory...”

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“Aréir is mé téarnamh ar neoin Ar ar dtaobh eile 'en teóra seo thiós Do thaobhnaigh an spéirbhean im' chomhair D'fhág taomanac breoite lag tinn Le haon ghean dá méin is dá cló Dá bréithre 's dá beol tanaí binn Do léimeas fá dhéin dul 'na treo Is ar Éirinn ní neosfainn cé hí...  Last night in strange fields as I roved Such a vision I passed on my way A young woman so fair to behold That in seconds my heart was astray Oh she reached out a welcoming hand But I knew that it never could be And before I could kiss her sweet lips She had vanished forever from me...”  

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“I went into an alehouse I used to frequent And I told the landlady my money was spent I asked her for credit, she answered me nay ‘Such a custom as yours I could have any day’...  And it's no nay never No nay never no more Will I play the wild rover No never no more...  I'll go home to my parents confess what I've done And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son And if they caress me as oft times before I never will play the wild rover no more...”

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“On the first day of January 1892 They opened Ellis Island and they let the people through And the first to cross the threshold of that isle of hope and tears Was Annie Moore from Ireland who was all of 15 years... When they closed down Ellis Island in 1943 17 million people had come there for sanctuary And in springtime when I came here and I stepped onto its piers I thought of how it must have been when you're 15 years... Isle of hope, isle of tears Isle of freedom, isle of fears But it's not the isle you left behind That isle of hunger, isle of pain Isle you'll never see again But the isle of home is always on your mind... But the isle of home is always on your mind...”

[eyes-ofirish-bluea]

“Tá bean in Éirinn a phronnfadh séad domh is mo sháith le n-ól Is tá bean in Éirinn is ba bhinne léithe mo ráfla ceoil Ná seinm théad; atá bean in Éirinn is níorbh fhearr léi beo Mise ag léimnigh nó leagtha I gcré is mo thárr faoi fhód…  Tá bean in Éirinn a bheadh ag éad liom mur’ bhfaighfinn ach póg Ó bhean ar aonach, nach ait an scéala, is mo dháimh féin leo Tá bean ab fhearr liom nó cath is céad dhíobh nach bhfagham go deo Is tá cailín spéiriúil ag fear gan Bhéarla, dubhghránna cróin… Tá bean a déarfadh dá siulfainn léi go bhfaighinn an t-ór Is tá bean ��na léine is is fearr a méin ná na táinte bó Le bean a bhuairfeadh Baile an Mhaoir is clár Thír Eoghain Is ní fheicim leigheas ar mo ghalar féin ach scaird a dh'ól…”