Words and Music: Dick Farrelly 

©Peter Maurice Music / EMI Music 



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's bound to be a dreamer 

When all the things he loves are far away. 

And precious things are dreams onto 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 Innisfree. 



And when the moonlight peeps across the rooftops

Of this great city wondrous tho' it be

I scarcely feel its wonder or its laughter 

I'm once again back home in Innisfree. 



I wander o'er green hills thro' 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 knees their rosary is told. 



But dreams don't last 

Tho' dreams are not forgotten 

And soon I'm back to stern reality 

But tho' they paved the footways here with gold dust

I still would choose the Isle of Innisfree.

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