The warm southwesterly I send to you,
Its warm moist air it gives hill hue,
It crosses Ireland with all its grace,
It flows over hills with clouds of lace.

You welcome it with it's warm sweet air,
It has the power to lift despair,
With its warmth it brings a smile,
As it passes over field and stile.

I think of you as it passes me by,
Sometimes a tear sometimes a sigh,
I know as it tugs and pulls at my hair,
I know what touches me here may touch you there.

You send me the northeasterly in return,
It makes my nose and ears all burn,
It's cold blast I welcome not,
I'm over here or have you forgot.

Forgot this man that once you knew,
This mere man that remembers you,
I lie to think I'm the humble kind,
But does my memory ever cross your mind.