Christy Moore The Two Conneeleys
Hear the Atlantic seethe and swell
And hear the lonely chapel bell
God save their souls and mind them well
Tomas and Sean Conneeley
Yesterday at half past four
They pushed their currach from the shore
One took the net while one took the oar
The two fisherman Conneeley
From Conor's fort and from Synge's chair
Towards Inis Mor and Inis Iarr
They scout the sea in silent prayer
As they go searching for their neighbours
Dia diob a beiir iascairi brea
nac mbeid ar ais ar barr an tra
Go mbeid sib sona sasta ar neam
Tomas agus Sean o' Congaile
Draw the seaweed up the hill
And sow potatoes in the drill
Try to understand God's will
And the loss of the two Conneeleys
Hear the Atlantic seethe and swell
And hear the lonely chapel bell
God save their souls and mind them well
Tomas and Sean Conneeley
