I close my eyes and picture the emerald of the sea From the fishing boats at Dingle To the shores of Donagha -dea; I miss the River Shannon And the folks at Skibbereen The moorlands and the meadows With 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 eider- -down; Again I want to see and do The things we've done and seen With the breeze as sweet as shalamar And there's forty shades of green. I wish that I could spend an hour At Dublin's churning surf I'd love to watch the farmers drain The bogs and spade the turf; To see again the thatches Of the straw the women glean; I'd walk from Cork to Laren to see The 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 eider- -down; Again I want to see and do The things we've done and seen With the breeze as sweet as shalamar And there's forty shades of green.