The broad majestic Shannon

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                                                                 The  last time I saw you was down at the  Greeks   
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There was  whiskey on Sunday and  tears on our  cheeks   
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 You  sang me a song as pure as the  breeze   
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on a  road leading  up Glena veigh   
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I  sat for a while at the  cross at Finnoe   
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Where young  lovers would meet when the  flowers were in  bloom   
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 Heard  the men coming home from the fair at Shin rone   
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Their  hearts in Tippe rary wher ever they  go   
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Take my  hand, and dry your  tears  babe   
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Take my  hand, forget your  fears  babe   
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There's no  pain, there's no more  sor row   
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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   
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So I  walked as the day was  dawn ing   
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Where small birds  sang and leaves were  fall ing   
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Where we once  watched the row boats  land ing   
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By the  broad   majestic  Shan non   
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