There are 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 when the moon is peeping o'er the rooftops

Of some strange city, wondrous though it be

I scarcely hear the music or the laughter

I'm once again back home in Inishfree.


Now special things are dreams unto an exile

They take him o'er the lands across the sea

Especially when it happens he's an exile

From that dear lovely Isle of Inishfree.