I heard a song,
Sad listless notes on the docks
Spoke to my heart
Like when Mother sang her song of gold
In our exile
So we’d remember green fields of old
Remember we used to live
In golden mist beyond the edge of the world

And the song went…

“Silent, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water
Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose
While, murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter
Tells to the night-star her tale of woes
When shall the swan, her death-note singing,
Sleep, with wings in darkness furl'd?
When will heav'n, its sweet bell ringing
Call my spirit from this stormy world?”

There was a swan of white
Gliding by the docks
A lonely heart
Betrayed and cursed to wander at sea
Oceans apart from home
Estranged and melancholy
I heard the song, saw the swan
Thinking back on a land of myth and charms

And the song went…

“Sadly, oh Moyle, to thy winter-wave weeping
Fate bids me languish long ages away;
Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping,
Still doth the pure light its dawning delay
When will that day-star, mildly springing
Warm our isle with peace and love?
When will heav'n, its sweet bell ringing
Call my spirit to the fields above?”

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