Have you heard the seagull calling, the seagull out at sea?
And sorry is its voice, though its wings are wide and free!
Though the wind blows to the land, and the waves laugh on the strand,
There are tears, there are tears in the calling on the sea.

The waters of the wide lough are racing cheerily:
The white waves leap and lighten for the joy of open sea:
The clouds pass over lightly, and the sun glints on it brightly,
And the strong ships spread their wings out and sail for open sea.

Have you heard the curlew calling, the curlew on the hill?
And sorry is its voice o'er the moorland floating shrill:
Though the day is fair and fine, and the breeze a draught of wine,
There are tears, there are tears in the calling on the hill.

The sun is shining fair, - is shining on the hill,
On the cabin by the bog, and the water lying still,
On the heather blooming sweet, and the gold-green windy wheat,
And the brown bog and the turf-stack and the purple on the hill.