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I close my eyes and picture the emerald of the sea |
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From the fishing boats at Dingle to the shores of Dunardee |
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I miss the river Shannon and the folks at Skibbereen |
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The moorlands and the midlands with their forty shades of green |
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But most of all I miss a girl in Tipperary town |
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And most of all I miss her lips as soft as eiderdown |
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Again I want to see and do the things we've done and seen |
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Where the breeze is sweet as Shalimar and there's forty shades of green |
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(Green green green forty shades of green) |
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I wish that I could spend an hour at Dublin's churching surf |
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I'd love to watch the farmers drain the bogs and spade the turf |
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To see again the thatching of the straw the women glean |
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I'd walk from Cork to Larne to see the forty shades of green |
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But most of all I miss a girl... |
