Angel Of The Emerald Isle

by Clare Cunningham, Patrick Mcmanus (Clare Cunningham)

The streets of Ireland hold many a tale

And I’m going to tell you just one

So close your eyes, listen within

And you just might believe when I’m done

 

The fog would roll in on the eve of December 24th

And an angel wings white as snow

would appear leaving gifts for the poor

 

And they called her and they called her

Angel of the Emerald Isle

Oh they called her yes they called her

Angel of the Emerald Isle

 

On each doorstep lay heavenly things

Sweet treasures to have and to hold

Beneath the clothing lay hope and joy

With pots full of silver and Gold

 

And they called her and they called her

Angel of the Emerald Isle

Oh they called her yes they called her

Angel of the Emerald Isle

 

T’was a night the Fog rolled in so Doubly dark

I felt her wing brush softly ‘cross my Irish Heart

 

And they called her yes they called her

Angel of the Emerald Isle

Oh they called her yes they called her

Angel of the Emerald Isle

Angel of the Emerald Isle