Glocca Morra I hear a bird, a little Derry bird It well may be it's bringing me a cheering word I feel a breeze, a River Shannon breeze It well may be it's followed me across the seas Then tell me please
How are things in Glocca Morra? Is that little brook still rippling there? Does it still run down to a Donny Cove Through Killybegs, Kilkerry and Kildare?
How are things in Glocca Morra? Is that willow tree still weeping there? Does the lassie with the twinkling eye go smiling by Or does she walk away sad and dreamy there Not to see me there?
So I ask each weeping willow And each brook along the way And each lass that comes a-sighing Tooralay How are things in Glocca Morra this fine day?
How are things in Glocca Morra? Is that willow tree still weeping there? Does the lassie with the twinkling eye go smiling by Or does she walk away sad and dreamy there Not to see me there?
So I ask each weeping willow And each brook along the way And each lass that comes a-sighing Tooralay How are things in Glocca Morra this fine day?