(Dick Farrelly)

I've met some folk who say that I'm a dreamer
And I've no doubt there's truth in what they say
For sure a body's bound to be a dreamer
When all the the things he loves are far away.

And precious things are dreams unto an exile
They take him through a land across sea
Especially when it happens he's in exile
From that dear lovely Isle of Innisfree.

And when the moonlight peeps across the rooftops
Of this great city, wondrous though it be
I scarcely feel the beauty or the magic
I'm once again back home in Inisfree.

--- Instrumental ---
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I wander o'er green hills and dreamy valleys
And find a peace no other land could know
I hear the birds make music fit for angels
And see the rivers laughing as they flow.

And then into a humble shack I wander
My own sweet home and tenderly behold
The folks I love around the turf fire gathered
On bended knees, their rosary is told.

But dreams don't last though dreams are not forgotten
When we are back to stern reality.
And though they pave the footways here with gold dust
I still would choose the Isle of Inisfree.

I still would choose the Isle of Inisfree...

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