I am going to the country, going down that verdant lane
With nothing but a whistle in my hand and a pocket full of rain
Can you hear that distant sound coming down the West Clare Railway?
And running with the shades of gloria
The wind is full of memories that murmur and sigh
Hills rise in the foaming grass of Clare beneath the cold moon's eye
But you should come and see them now, when they are on fire
And running with the shades of gloria
The waves roll at the headland when the tide is rising there
But here, there is starlight falling down on the hills of Clare
I knew them when I was hungry and I knew them when I was scared
And running with the shades of gloria
I am going to the country where Micho in his prime
Weaved a thread of melody in his own sweet time
You can hear him sing and whistle anytime you care
To go running with the shades of gloria
I am going to the country, going down that verdant lane
With nothing but a whistle in my hand and a pocket full of rain
