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.