Call of Erin (James Connolly) With the engines 'neath us throbbing And the wind upon our stern, Little reck we of the distance That divides us now from Erin For we hear her voices calling Sweeping past us on the West Calling home to her the children She once nourished on her breast. (Chorus:) She is calling, calling, calling In the wind and o'er the tide. We, her children hear her voices Call us ever to her side. O! Ye waters bear us onward And ye winds your task fulfill Till our Irish eyes we feast on Irish vale and Irish hill Till we tread our Irish Cities See their glory and their shame, And our eyes like skies o'er Erin, Through their smiles shed tears of pain. Glorious is the land were leaving And its pride shall grow through years And the land that calls us homewards Can but share with us her tears Yet our heart her call obeying Heedless of the wealth men crave Turneth home to share her sorrow Where she weeps beside the wave. Written aboard ship during his return to Ireland in 1909. Words, James Connolly; air, Rolling Home to Bonnie Scotland. JD
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