I've met some folks who say that I'm a dreamer
And I've no doubt there's truth in what they say
But sure a body's bound to be a dreamer
When all the things he loves are far away.
And precious things are dreams unto an exile.
They take him o'er the land across the sea --
Especially when it happens he's an 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 it's wonder or it's laughter
I'm once again back home in Innisfree.
I wander o'er green hills through dreamy valleys
And find a peace no other land would know.
I hear the birds make music fit for angels
And watch the rivers laughing as they flow.
And then into a humble shack I wander
My dear old home and tenderly behold
The folks I love around the turf fire, gathered.
On bended knees, their rosary is told.