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 

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'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 day was dawning 

Where small birds sang and leaves were falling 

Where we once watched the row boats landing 

By the broad majestic Shannon