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The Quiet Land of Erin

words: Joan O'Hara; music attrib. Sean MacAmbrosius

 

By myself I'd be in Ard Ui Cuain
where the mountain stands away.
And tis I would let the Sundays go
in the cuckoo's glen above the bay.


Chorus:
Agus och, och Eire lig is o,
Eire lonndubh is O,
ah the quiet land of Erin.


Ah, my heart is weary all alone
and it sends a lonely cry
To the land that sings beyond my dreams
and the lonely Sundays pass me by
Chorus


I would ravel back the twisted years
in the bitter wasted winds.
If the God above would let me lie
in a quiet place above the winds.


Chorus