I close my eyes
and picture the
emerald of the sea
From the fishing boats
at Dingle to the
shores of Dundee
I miss the
River Shannon
and the folks
at Skivery
The moorlands
and the meadows
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
as soft as eider-down
Again I want to
see and do
the things we've
done and seen
Where the breeze is
sweet as Shalamar
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
balk and spit the turf
To see again the
thatching of the straw
the women bleen
I'd walk from
Cork to Lark
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 eider-down
Again I want to
see and do
the things we've
done and seen
Where the breeze is
sweet as Shalamar
And there's forty
shades of green
Where the breeze is
sweet as Shalamar
And there's forty
shades of green