Oh.
The
jolly road to Kill Claire,
it winds and twists and bends
through fields of green by rivers clean where every journey mends.
The lark it sings,
the tin whistle rings as the fiddle takes its cue,
and the old stone bridge with moss
for a ridge it knows the morning dew.
So raise your glass,
let the laughter flow to the tune of the banjo's merry glow.
Oh,
the stomp and the clap,
we'll dance till we're free on the
jolly road to Kill Claire by the sea.
The lad named Finn with the toothless
grin who dances like the breeze,
and the young maid McCall,
she's the queen of the hauler skirts,
swirl with ease.
The bazaar on beat so it calls to her
feet like a heartbeat in the night,
and the tin whistle's trill over
valley and hill sets the stars alight.
The moon may hide,
the clouds may cry,
but our spirits soar,
they'll never die.
So raise your glass,
let the laughter flow to the tune of the banjo's merry glow.
Oh,
the stomp and the clap,
we'll dance till we're free on the
jolly road to Kill Claire by the sea.
The cobbler hums as he mends his soles,
the baker laughs as he kneads his rolls,
and the fiddler plays till his fingers tire,
but the flames keep leaping in the heart's bright fire.
So raise your glass,
let the laughter flow to the tune of the banjo's merry glow.
With a stomp and a clap,
we'll dance till we're free on the
jolly road to Kill Claire by the sea.