Atlantic storm / Rua
The wind upon my face and the scent of the sea,
Oh these are the memories I carry with me,
The mist rolling in and silver clouds above,
Oh these are the reveries of all that I love.
The smell of turf in winter, my mother’s smiling face,
So easily remembered, so easily placed,
The sunrise through the trees at the dawning of the day,
Would cradle me within its arms and carry me away.
The Atlantic Storm is raging,
Calling me back home to the land of my birthplace where I’m never alone.
I hear it rumble in the distance, the home of my heart
Oh Atlantic Storm how I wish we never had to part.
I hear my father calling through waves upon the sands,
We walk on by the houses and down along the strand,
I see familiar faces, my comrades, my friends,
How I’ve missed their warmth and tenderness which I’ll never leave again.
The Atlantic Storm is raging
Calling me back home to the land of my birthplace where I’m never alone.
I hear it rumble in the distance, the home of my heart
Oh Atlantic Storm how I wish we never had to part.
 
|
|
|
|
|
|
