HARVEST TIME IN IRELAND

Two lonely Irish exiles, at the closing of the day,

                Had met to talk of bygone times in Ireland far away.

Said one, “ I love America – its laws are just and fair,

                But it’s harvest time in Ireland and I’m longing to be there;”

( Chorus)

When it’s harvest time in Ireland I would crave no greater boon

                Than to see those corn fields once again beneath the harvest moon

For all those years of exile one hour would atone

                But let me spend that hour ‘mid the cornfields in Tyrone.

Last night I dreamt of Ireland, saw home and friends so dear

                The laughter from the cornfields rang joyfully and clear

I saw the ripening corn as I saw it oft before

                Make Tyrone one golden valley, from Strabane to Carrickmore ;

( Chorus)

And I’m lonely with a longing that the Irish only know

                A longing for the breezes that like soft caresses blow

As they rustle like a whisper through the fields of ripening grain

                And my heart still turns to Ireland, when the harvest comes again.