I walked on a northern shore
Where the sandywort sped on before the ocean's blast
The grass ran like lemmings for the dune's high edge
And I thought it meant like the grass
We bend in the driving gale
and scarcely paused to think what makes the wind so strong
or if there's a refuge from the driver's flag
But then I heard the saddest song
of the Irish Girl
The Irish Girl
Her eyes through a sparkling red
like raindrops on a laurel when the moon appears
She sang of her sorrow through the stinging spread
and through the sweeter brine, the salt of tears,
I weep for the lost of a love
Who's gone brooding now and silent as a standing stone
Two sides of a coin we rolled a battered roll
but in time he chose to leave alone
His Irish Girl
His Irish Girl
I touched her and spoke my name
for it seems she didn't know me for the song she sang
she said, oh I know your face but here's the shame
for though I knew the boy, who knows the man
and I wept who might turn for the fool
who never saw the joys that make a blind man smile
seeking his fortune while the brightest jewel
was within his reach all the while
The Irish Girl
His Irish Girl
Where the sandywort sped on before the ocean's blast
The grass ran like lemmings for the dune's high edge
And I thought it meant like the grass
We bend in the driving gale
and scarcely paused to think what makes the wind so strong
or if there's a refuge from the driver's flag
But then I heard the saddest song
of the Irish Girl
The Irish Girl
Her eyes through a sparkling red
like raindrops on a laurel when the moon appears
She sang of her sorrow through the stinging spread
and through the sweeter brine, the salt of tears,
I weep for the lost of a love
Who's gone brooding now and silent as a standing stone
Two sides of a coin we rolled a battered roll
but in time he chose to leave alone
His Irish Girl
His Irish Girl
I touched her and spoke my name
for it seems she didn't know me for the song she sang
she said, oh I know your face but here's the shame
for though I knew the boy, who knows the man
and I wept who might turn for the fool
who never saw the joys that make a blind man smile
seeking his fortune while the brightest jewel
was within his reach all the while
The Irish Girl
His Irish Girl