| There’s a legend that I’ve heard about in Ireland
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| They tell me that it’s called the calling home
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| Some folk think it’s just imagination
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| But I have heard the calling on my own
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| It’s the story of a force within the spirit of those who immigrated years ago
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| To dwell within the hearts of their descendants
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| And bless them with the yearning there to go
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| Have you ever felt the calling calling you home to Ireland, the emerald of the
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| sea
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| To the green glens of Antrim
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| Or tawny Gold Shore
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| Or the girl who might be waiting in Tralee
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| Do you ever feel the longing to be in County Down
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| Have you heard the Midlands calling from Athlone
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| To Killarney or where’er it be in that fair Irish land
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| It’s the calling that’s calling you home
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| It’s passed the test of timeless generations
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| Oh how I wish I could have known the man
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| Who left those fields of green in 1820
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| And never found his way back home again
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| But he has left the calling here within me
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| Soon I will set my feet on Erin’s shore
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| And in my heart he’ll walk along beside me
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| On the pathway to a dear old cottage door
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| Have you ever felt the calling calling you home to Ireland, the emerald of the
|
| sea
|
| To the green glens of Antrim
|
| Or tawny Gold Shore
|
| Or the girl who might be waiting in Tralee
|
| Do you ever feel the longing to be in County Down
|
| Have you heard the Midlands calling from Athlone
|
| To Killarney or where’er it be in that fair Irish land
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| It’s the calling that’s calling you home
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| It’s the calling that’s calling back home |