It's a road leading nowhere for as far as you can see,

   winding its way through an early morning haze

It's a meadow looking greener in the spring and summer rains,

   the cattle and some sheep that share the graze

It's the clouds that hand so low you feel you can touch them,

   the smell of early morning on the breeze

It's the wind that never stops, it blows for days on end,

   wild and raw, but sometimes gentle as the rocking of the sea

The sun peeks through those broken clouds to dry the earth again,

   and burns away the mist it's clear and free

It's a sentimental journey I take often in my mind

   to a place that's ever home sweet home to me.

It's the faces of the children in the schoolyard as they play,

   I close my eyes and see it like it was yesterday

I see that little stream still flowing, never changing, cool and clear,

   I'm caught up in old memories of a place I still hold dear.

The smoke-blackened chimneys that have warmed hearth and home

   of the ageless little cottages built of gray native stone

And I can't forget the music, I hear 'pipes and fiddles play,

   "Londonderry Air" still haunts me as I go along my way.

I remember the taste of the whiskey that set my mind awhirl,

   'tis said it was invented so the Irish couldn't rule the world.

But with a heart as heavy as the famine on the land

   I left behind that little island to ne'er return again.

And knowing I was leaving everything I loved behind,

   I faced a storm-tossed ocean not knowing what I'd find.

Watched the green fields fade behind me and I boldly looked away

   to face the first part of the journey that brought me where I am today.

This new life on the prairie, this place they call "the West,"

   God knows, it's strange and different, but I think it's for the best.

The days pass by so swiftly, it's the nights that move so slow,

   I think back to bonnie Ireland and wish I hadn't had to go.

But I had to make some choices so I told them all goodbye

   I think of that sad parting and a tear dimes in my eye.

It's those memories I carry through the years that turn me old

  even out here on this prairie, it's always Ireland in my soul.

By Doc Stovall 2001