I close my eyes and picture
The emerald of the sea
From the fishing boats at Dingle
To the shores of Dundee
I miss he river Shannon
and the folks at Skipperdee
The moorlands and the meadows
With their forty shades of green.
But most of all I miss a girl in Tipererie town
And most of all I miss her lips,
So soft as eider-down.
Again I want to see and do
The thigns we've done and seen
Where the breeze is sweet as Chalamar
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 farmer
Drain the bog and split the turf.
To see again the thatching
Of the straw the woman glean
I'd walk from Corke to Larn to see
The forty shades of green.
But most of all I miss a girl in Tipererie town
And most of all I miss her lips,
So soft as eider-down.
Again I want to see and do
The thigns we've done and seen
Where the breeze is sweet as Chalamar
And there's forty shades of green.
Where the breeze is sweet as Chalamar
And there's forty shades of green
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