Luíonn mo ghrá,
Aonarach in Éirinn,
Goirt an tsáile
Lena cíoch iarsnámha,
Ag tnúth le teacht a céile.

Tá an fharraige lán
Ag tuileadh is ag trá
Is ag trá.

Ar bhóithrín dóite,
Ag crosaire allúrach,
Scoitheann na gluaisteáin
M’ordóg dhílis.
Tá bóithrín dóite
Ag crosaire allúrach
Ag caitheamh sáil mo bhróige.

Tá an fharraige lán
Ag tuileadh is ag trá
Is ag trá.

I ngairdín a máithrín
I gcathair gheal na gréine,
Tá corcra na gcaor
Ar a teanga úr.
I ngairdín a máithrín
I gcathair gheal na gréine,
Tá súil le teacht na hoíche.
Tá an fharraige lán
Ag tuileadh is ag trá
Is ag trá.

Siúlód an fharraige.
Siúlód abhaile
Anocht.

My love lies

My love lies
All on her own in Ireland,
Sea-salt on her skin,
Waiting for her love to return.

The sea keeps on
Ebbing and flowing
And ebbing again.

On a burning highway
At a foreign crossroad,
The cars keep passing
My stubborn thumb.
There’s a burning highway
At a foreign crossroad
Wearing down the soles of my shoes.

The sea keeps on
Ebbing and flowing
And ebbing again.

In her mother’s garden
In the bright city of the sun,
Her tongue
Is purple as a berry.
In her mother’s garden
In the bright city of the sun,
They’re waiting
For the night to come.

The sea keeps on
Ebbing and flowing
And ebbing again.

I’ll walk the ocean
Home tonight.

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