| In my dreams I know that I can fly | 
| But like the small birds and the free birds | 
| I can fly just like the birds on high | 
| To the freedom of the sky | 
| I can soar across the heavens | 
| How easy now it seems | 
| Like the birds I will have no cares or sorrows | 
| I the shadow, the shadows of my dreams | 
| Ireland my Ireland | 
| It seems to me that all the leaves | 
| Are sighing in the breeze | 
| Ireland I cry for my lan-ah | 
| And it seems to me that all the leaves are gone | 
| As I wonder through my lonely land | 
| My heart is full of pain | 
| For our people have no freedom | 
| Their imporvirished and enchained | 
| I see them fight and struggle | 
| Against the stormy hearts of men | 
| A language struggle with the people | 
| And by hunger all are slane | 
| Ireland my Ireland | 
| Banashed to a land beyond the sea | 
| I see a rich a rich and fertile land | 
| I feel the spirit of a nation | 
| A maiden weeps she weeps upon the harp | 
| I see tumbling towns and towers | 
| I a land of beauty and of splendour | 
| From the mountains to the seas | 
| But the wild flowers drown in sorrow | 
| In this valley, this valley filled with tears | 
| Ireland my Ireland | 
| It seems to me that all the leaves | 
| Are sighing in the breeze | 
| Ireland I cry for my lan-ah | 
| And it seems to me that all the leaves are gone | 
| So I fly across this lonely land | 
| I see golden fields of corn | 
| I see a land thats filled with plenty | 
| Yet the people starve and die | 
| Young Ireland now is silienced | 
| And are banashed far away | 
| The lion preys upon the people | 
| And devoures them night and day |