If you ever go across the sea to Ireland,
Then maybe at the closing of your day,
You will sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh
And see the sun go down on Galway Bay.
Just to hear again the ripples of the trout stream,
The women in the meadows making hay,
To sit beside a turf fire in a cabin
And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play.
For the breezes blowing o’er the sea from Ireland
Are perfumed by the heather as they blow,
And the women in the uplands diggin’ praties
Speak a language that the strangers do not know.
And if there’s going to be a life hereafter,
And somehow I am sure there’s going to be,
I will ask my God to let me make my Heaven
In that dear land across the Irish sea.
* * *
‘YOKE THE PONY’ is an acclaimed memoir of life in Ireland three generations ago.
To read a free excerpt, to read reviews, or to download it, just click:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CPKP31E
IRELAND - MALTA - TRAVEL 
A beautiful poem, Paddy. It fills me with a longing for that heavenly place you speak of. I have a picture of my late sister, tossing the hay in a field in Ireland, on a visit there with her husband. It was in the 1960’s, I think.
Thanks Jenny.
Ah yes, ‘The Green and Misty Isle’ has a rare mystique that always evokes feelings of nostalgia and affection.
Absolutely lovely. Always promised myself ill go there visit donigal and ill do all the things u said in this poem. Its on my bucket wish list. Great paddy x
Thank you Michele.
When you do get to the ‘Emerald Isle’ you can be sure of a ‘Cead Mile Failte’ and Irish Eyes will be smiling.
Cead Mile Failte (A hundred thousand welcomes)
Reblogged this on Paddy Cummins.
Reblogged this on It's All Good and commented:
A wonderful poem by Paddy Cummins. I want to join the women making hay and sit by a firkin the cabin. I would love to visit Ireland.