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Boosting good gut bacteria
Galway bay
If you ever
go across the sea to Ireland,
Then maybe
at the closing of your day;
You will sit
and watch the moonrise over Claddagh,
And see the
sun go down on Galway Bay,
Just to hear
again the ripple of the trout stream,
The women in
the meadows making hay;
And to sit
beside a turf fire in the cabin,
And watch
the barefoot gossoons at their play,
For the
breezes blowing over the seas from Ireland,
Are perfumed
by the heather as they blow;
And the
women in the uplands digging praties,
Speak a
language that the strangers do not know,
For the
strangers came and tried to teach their way,]
They scorned
us just for being what we are;
But they
might as well go chasing after moonbeams,
Or light a
penny candle from a star.
And if there
is going to be a life hereafter,
And somehow
I am sure there's going to be;
I will ask
my God to let me make my heaven,
In that dear
land across the Irish Sea.
