Forty Shades Of Green - Roger Whittaker

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 weґve done and seen
Where the breeze is sweet as shalimar and thereґs Forty Shades of Green

I wish that I could spend an hour at Dublinґs 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
Iґd 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 weґve done and seen
Where the breeze is sweet as shalimar and thereґs Forty Shades of Green