The Isle of Innisfree sing and play along

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 is 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 Inisfree.

And when the moonlight peeps across the rooftops

of this great city,

wondrous though it be.

I scarcely feel its wonder or its laugher,

I'm once again back home in Inisfree.

I wander o'er green hills through dreamy valleys,

and find a peace no other land could 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 knee their rosary is told.

But dreams don't last though dreams are not forgotten

and soon I'm back to stern reality.

But though they pave the footways here with gold dust,

I still would choose the Isle of Inesfree.

I still would choose the Isle of Inisfree.