Come to thee, the peace, on a green and lovely island
If you please, if you please
Where the gorse is brightly growing
In the mirror of the morning
And the sweeping hills surround you
And the time it cannot bind you
With the cattle grazing slowly
While the sun is setting lowly to the ground
Such a golden sun above thee
And the emerald glint abounds thee
And the colors dost astound thee
Can you see them through the bloodbath?
Can you see them through the tears your people shed?
And the wrath of God now smolders
And the weight's upon your shoulders
And the weight is never ending
'Till you're stopping all the killing
Don't you see?