Isle Of Inisfree

I've met some folks who say that I'm a dreamer, And I've no doubt there's truth in what they say, But sure a body's bound to be a dreamer When all the things he loves are far away. And precious things are dreams unto an exile. They take him o'er the land across the sea -- Especially when it happens he's an exile From that dear lovely Isle of Inisfree And when the moonlight peeps across the rooftops Of this great city, wondrous though it be, I scarcely feel its wonder or its laughter. I'm once again back home in Inisfree. I wander o'er green hills through dreamy valleys And find a peace no other land could know. I hear the birds make music fit for angels And watch the rivers laughing as they flow. And then into a humble shack I wander -- My dear old 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 -- And soon I'm back to stern reality. But though they pave the footways here with gold dust, I still would choose the Isle of Inisfree.