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.
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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.