The last time I saw you was down at the Greeks
|
There was whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
|
You sang me a song as pure as the breeze
|
Blowing up the road to Glenaveigh
|
I sat for a while at the cross at Finnoe
|
Where young lovers would meet when the flowers were in bloom
|
Heard the men coming home from the fair at Shinrone
|
Their hearts in Tipperary wherever they go
|
Take my hand, and dry your tears babe
|
Take my hand, forget your fears babe
|
There's no pain, there's no more sorrow
|
They're all gone, gone in the years babe
|
I sat for a while by the gap in the wall
|
Found a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball
|
Heard the cards being dealt, and the rosary called
|
And a fiddle playing Sean Dun na nGall
|
And the next time I see you we'll be down at the Greeks
|
There'll be whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
|
For it's stupid to laugh and it's useless to bawl
|
About a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball
|
So I walked as day was dawning
|
Where small birds sang and leaves were falling
|
Where we once watched the row boats landing
|
By the broad majestic Shannon
|
|
-----------------
|
Broad Majestic Shannon
|
| T. Duggins |
