Texty: Shane Macgowan And The Popes. Aisling.

See the moon is once more rising
Above our our land of black and green
Hear the rebels voice is calling
I shall not die, though you bury me

Hear the aunt in bed a dying
Where is my Johnny?
Faded pictures in the hallway
Which one of these brown ghosts is he?

Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts of and dreams of you will haunt me
'Till I come back home again

And the wind it blows, to the north and south
And blows to the east and west
I'll be just like that wind my love
For I will have no rest, 'til I return to thee

Bless the wind that shakes the barley
Curse the spade and curse the plough
Waking in the morning early
I wish to hell, I was with you now

One, two, three, four telephone poles
Give me a drink of poitin'
Madness from the mountains crawling
When I first met you my own Aisling

Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts of and dreams of you will haunt me
Till I come back home again

Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts of and dreams of you will haunt me
Till I come back home again