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