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HOW ARE THINGS IN GLOCCA MORRA?* \/ THE HEATHER ON THE HILL**
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Barbra Streisand
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1
I hear a bird, Londonderry bird,
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It well may be he's bringing me a cheering word.
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I hear a breeze, a River Shanon breeze,
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It well may be it's followed me across the seas.
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Then tell me please:
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How are things in Glocca Morra?
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Is that little brook still leaping there?
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Does it still run down to Donny Cove?
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Through Killybegs, Kilkerry and Kildare?
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How are things in Glocca Mora?
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Is that willow tree still weeping there?
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Does that laddie with the twinklin' eye
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Come smilin' by and does he walk away,
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Sad and dreamy there, not to see me there?
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So I ask each weepin' willow and each brook along the way,
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And each lad that comes a-whistlin' "Too ra lay"
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How are things in Glocca Morra this fine day?
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The mist of May is in the gloaming
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And all the clouds are holding still
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So take my hand and let's go roamin'
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Through the heather on the hill
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The mornin' dew is blinkin' yonder.
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There's lazy music in the rill,
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And all I want to do is wander
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Through the heather on the hill.
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There may be other days as rich and rare.
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There may be other springs as full and fair.
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But they won't be the same, they'll come and go
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Well this I must know:
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How are things in Glocca Morra?
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Is that laddie callin' "Too ra lay"
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Will we meet in Glocca Morra?
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Some fine day
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Some fine day
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