Dusty plains and iron chains met Erin's sons and daughters, Cast upon a barren land, a far off distant shore, They dreamed of misty mountains in their home across the water, They sang of Connemara and the home they'd see no more. Now limestone walls are all that's left of times of pain and failure, This country yields the secrets of the beauty that it holds, And the tunes of Erin's Isle are now the music of Australia, For Irish hands have woven strands of green among the gold. CHORUS: And so beneath the Southern Cross, they sang their songs of Ireland, They sent their sons and daughters there in the hungry days of old, They played their jigs and reels beneath the skies of their new homeland, For Irish hands have woven strands of green among the gold. Nowadays when times are hard some people take a notion To start a brand new life upon the far side of the globe, And now they find their hearts are stranded somewhere in mid-ocean, Though their days are full of sunshine and their future's full of hope. CHORUS Their children sing a broken life of shearers and bush rangers, They learn to play our music and to dance the steps of old, Though their hearts are in Australia, they never will be strangers To the land they left behind them, they're the green among the gold. CHORUS