The Mountain Goats
There Will Always Be an Ireland
Cold northern wind
Your young arm
Against my face
Soft and warm

There will always be an ireland
There will always be an ireland

Silent hour
Worthless words
View of some foreign city from the high window
Strange black birds

There will always be an ireland
There will always be an ireland

What we did
The things we said
Your hand resting
On my head

There will always be an ireland
There will always be an ireland
There will always be an ireland
There will always be an ireland