Come to thee, the peace, on a green and lovely island If you please, if you please Where the gorse is brightly growing In the mirror of the morning And the sweeping hills surround you And the time it cannot bind you With the cattle grazing slowly While the sun is setting lowly to the ground Such a golden sun above thee When the rain is not upon thee And the emerald glint abounds thee And the colors dost astound thee Can you see them through the bloodbath? Can you see them through the tears your people shed? And the wrath of God now smolders And the weight's upon your shoulders And the weight is never ending 'Till you're stopping all the killing Don't you see?