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