| It wasn’t the ferry to Dublin
|
| Arrival at last on your shore
|
| It wasn’t the shamrock awaiting
|
| On each pint of Guinness you pour
|
| It was Oonagh and Anne in Kilkenny
|
| It was Seamus and Patrick in Cork
|
| It was Callum in Limerick, Aoefe in Galway
|
| And the folk of this island, for sure
|
| And the folk of this island, for sure…
|
| Oh, Ireland, oh, Ireland, no wonder my roots
|
| Were never in briefcases, never in suits
|
| Of New York or London, or Paris, no thanks
|
| But down by the Blackwater Banks
|
| And it wasn’t the pride of East Belfast
|
| With its red, white, and blue to the floor
|
| It wasn’t the calls from Divis to Falls
|
| Of 'No, nay, never, no more'
|
| It was Barry and James up in Derek
|
| As we finally headed back east
|
| And reluctantly boarded our ferry
|
| Each time, you felt closer to peace
|
| Each time, you felt closer to peace
|
| Oh, Ireland, oh, Ireland, no wonder my roots
|
| Were never in briefcases, never in suits
|
| Of New York or London, or Paris, no thanks
|
| But down by the Blackwater Banks
|
| Oh, woah-oh…
|
| Woah, oh…
|
| I’ve pedalled from Larne down to Wexford
|
| Via Roscommon, Galway, and Clare
|
| And Tipperary’s so far, 'cause every damn bar
|
| Is pulling and diverting you there
|
| It was Tully’s in Kinvara, Murphy’s in Thomastown
|
| In Cahir, the old Punter’s Rest
|
| In Ireland, you mention you’re leaving
|
| And the likelihood seems to get less
|
| Oh, Ireland, oh, Ireland, no wonder my roots
|
| Were never in briefcases, never in suits
|
| Of New York or London, or Paris, no thanks
|
| But down by the Blackwater Banks
|
| Down by the Blackwater Banks…
|
| Down by the Liffey
|
| Down by the Shannon
|
| Down by the Blackwater Banks… |