I'm flying back to Ireland
Though it was not where I was born.
I'll be arriving in Ireland
While the sun rises in the morn.
And I'll not be sight seeing
Where most tourists choose to view.
I promised my wife, Jeannie,
When in Ireland, this I'd do.
I'm taking her to scenery
She never again will see.
Like its many shades of green
Ireland's known for sea to sea.
When I've found the very place
About she loved Ireland the best,
My hands will release her ashes
And let the wind do the rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem