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  • Words and
    Music: ****
    Farrelly ©
    Peter Maurice
    Music / EM
    I 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.
  • Words and
    Music: ****
    Farrelly ©
    Peter Maurice
    Music / EM
    I 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.