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 that was 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’ve 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 Dún na Gall
And then next time I see you we’ll be down at the Greeks
There’ll be whiskey on Sunday on tears on our cheeks
For it’s stupid to laugh and it’s useless to bawl
'Bout a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball
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’ve all gone, gone in the years, babe
So I walked as day was dawning
Where small birds sang and leaves were falling
Where we once watched the rowboats landing
On the broad majestic Shannon