I am going to the country, going down that verdant lane With nothing but a whistle in my hand and a pocket full of rain Can you hear that distant sound coming down the West Clare Railway? And running with the shades of gloria The wind is full of memories that murmur and sigh Hills rise in the foaming grass of Clare beneath the cold moon's eye But you should come and see them now, when they are on fire And running with the shades of gloria The waves roll at the headland when the tide is rising there But here, there is starlight falling down on the hills of Clare I knew them when I was hungry and I knew them when I was scared And running with the shades of gloria I am going to the country where Micho in his prime Weaved a thread of melody in his own sweet time You can hear him sing and whistle anytime you care To go running with the shades of gloria I am going to the country, going down that verdant lane With nothing but a whistle in my hand and a pocket full of rain