Latimer/Hoover 

Listen now boys, 

my grandmother said - 

I'll tell you a story and 

then off to bed. 

There once was a time, 

we lived off the land. 

Harvest would come, 

and we all lent a hand 



But winds blew our lives, 

and scattered our seeds. 

Changing the landscape, 

from flowers to weeds. 

See in the graveyard 

the families gone. 

The grandest of tombstones 

carry them on... 



When you sail from the Harbour, 

It's your last eyes of Ireland. 



We tended the fire, 

and faeries appeased 

the flame never died 

until we had to leave. 

And when we were gone, 

the house tumbled down 

and covered our footprints, 

we'd left on the ground. 



When you sail from the Harbour, 

It's your last eyes of Ireland.





My eyes are now tired 

and no longer see. 

But visions of Ireland 

linger in me. 



So carry your past

in the rooms of your heart 

and you'll never he empty 

of love when you part 



When you sail from the Harbour, 

It's your last eyes of Ireland.