| I hear a bird, Londonderry bird
|
| It well may be he’s bringing me a cheering word
|
| I hear a breeze, a River Shanon breeze
|
| It well may be it’s followed me across the seas
|
| Then tell me please
|
| How are things in Glocca Morra?
|
| Is that little brook still leaping there?
|
| Does it still run down to Donny cove?
|
| Through Killybegs, Kilkerry and Kildare?
|
| How are things in Glocca Mora?
|
| Is that willow tree still weeping there?
|
| Does that lassie with the twinklin' eye
|
| Come smilin' by and does she walk away
|
| Sad and dreamy there not to see me there?
|
| So I ask each weepin' willow and each brook along the way
|
| And each lass that comes a-sighin' too ra lay
|
| How are things in Glocca Morra this fine day? |