Ireland Must Be Heaven, For My Mother Came From There
Words and Music by Joe McCarthy, Howard Johnson & Fred Fischer
Published 1916 by Leo. Feist


I've oft-en heard my dad-dy
speak of Ire-land's lakes and dells,
The place must be like Heav-en,
if it's half like what he tells;

There's ro-ses fair and sham-rocks there,
and laugh-ing wa-ters flow;
I have nev-er seen that Isle of Green,
But there's one thing sure I know.

Ire-land must be Heav-en,
for an an-gel came from there,
I nev-er knew a liv-ing soul
one half as swe-et or- fair,

For her eyes are like the star-light,
And the white clouds match her hair,
Su-re Ire-land must be Heav-en,
for my moth-er came from there.

I've pict-ured in my fond-est dreams
old Ire-land's vales and rills,
I see a stair-way to the sky,
formed by her ver-dant hills;

Each wave that's in the o-cean blue
just loves to hug the shore,
So if Ire-land is-n't Heav-en,
then sure, It must be right next door.

Ire-land must be Heav-en,
for an an-gel came from there,
I nev-er knew a liv-ing soul
one half as swe-et or- fair,

For her eyes are like the star-light,
And the white clouds match her hair,
Su-re Ire-land must be Heav-en,
for my moth-er came from there.