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Forty Shades Of Green
par
Roger Whittaker
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I close my eyes and picture the emerald of the sea from the fishin boats at Dingle to the shores at Dunehea I miss the River Shannon and the folks at Skibbereen the moorlands and meadows and 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 eiderdown I long again to see and do the things we´ve done and seen where the breeze is sweet as shalimar and there´s Forty Shades of Green I wish that I could spend an hour at Dublin´s churning suft I long to watch the farmers drain the bogs and spade the turf to see again the thatching of the straw the women clean I´d walk from Cork to Larne to see those 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 eiderdown I long again to see and do the things we´ve done and seen where the breeze is sweet as shalimar and there´s Forty Shades of Green
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