Erin Go Bragh

Erin Go Bragh

My mother wasn’t born in Ireland,
But Ireland is in her blood,
The legacy of her father,
And his father before him.

The songs of Ireland were shared,
My youth shaped by graceful lyrics,
Lilting notes of lullabies,
As me mother sang me off to sleep.

(sing)
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby."

And the melancholy melodies,
Would fill the Irish heart.
Yet their lilting laughter,
Could lift you and carry you away.

Ah, yes, the Irish have the fighting spirit,
Yet, the drink moves them to sing,
Of Kilgary Mountain or Lanigans ball,
With a song in their heart and tear drop in their eye.

(sing)
When Irish eyes are laughing
All the world seems bright and gay,
And when Irish eyes are crying,
Sure, they steal your heart away.

But, aye, they could dance
The Irish jig to hearty tunes,
While the penny whistle bands,
Kept their feet a-flying high.

And, aye, the Irish are sentimental,
For their hearts are soft and pure,
As they sing of Kilkarney,
Or Cockles and muscles alive alive-0.

(sing)
In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheel-barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive-O!
Alive, alive-O! alive, alive-O!

The wild thyme so precious and rare,
Fills the air with scents so sweet,
And the rocky road to Dublin,
Leads you home again.

The mountains of Irish heather,
Surrounded by meadows of green,
The homeland of my ancestors,
Now does call to me.

Erin go Bragh