The falling notes rose,
My spirits,
A jig of Irish tunes,
Danced
And I walked on down the road.
I told my lass
That I must leave.
Ireland was a callin’
And I couldn’t wait no more
So I walked on down the road
while the Germans shouted
and the French wept
and the Italians ate
and drank to my health
The grass rose before me
and the wind dwindled
and the moss papered the rocks
and the trees cheered
and the sky wept
on my route
down the road.