The broad majestic Shannon

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 on a road leading up Glena veigh 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 Shin rone Their hearts in Tippe rary wher ever 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 sor row 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 the day was dawn ing Where small birds sang and leaves were fall ing Where we once watched the row boats land ing By the broad majestic Shan non