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.