Listen now boys,
   my grandmother said -
   I'll tell you a story and
   then off to bed.
   There once was a time,
   we lived off the land.
   Harvest would come,
   and we all lent a hand
  
   But winds blew our lives,
   and scattered our seeds.
   Changing the landscape,
   from flowers to weeds.
   See in the graveyard
   the families gone.
   The grandest of tombstones
   carry them on...
  
   When you sail from the Harbour,
   It's your last eyes of Ireland.
  
   We tended the fire,
   and faeries appeased
   the flame never died
   until we had to leave.
   And when we were gone,
   the house tumbled down
   and covered our footprints,
   we'd left on the ground.
  
   When you sail from the Harbour,
   It's your last eyes of Ireland.
  
   My eyes are now tired
   and no longer see.
   But visions of Ireland
   linger in me.
  
   So carry your past
   in the rooms of your heart
   and you'll never he empty
   of love when you part
  
   When you sail from the Harbour,
   It's your last eyes of Ireland