Home is where the Harp is, but

no matter where I am, I can take

It out of the box and be in Galway

Bay, on the streets of Dublin with

Molly Malone or better again, by

the banks of The Blackwater with

The Rakes of Mallow without even

counting strings on the cover of

my passport. I've no hearth to sit

beside, or no fragrant turf to smell,

but flowers in the Fields of Athenry,

make my wandering soul feel well.