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D G D Bm D G A D D G The last time I saw you was down at the Greeks
TDheGreBm was whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
AYoDu G sang me a song as pure as the breeze
oDn Ga A road leading up Glena veigh
ID Gsat for a while at the cross at Finnoe
WDheGreBm young lovers would meet when the flowers were in bloom
AHeDarGd the men coming home from the fair at Shin rone
TDheGirA Dhearts in Tippe rary wher ever they go
TDakGe Amy hand, and dry your tears babe
TDakGe Amy hand, forget your fears babe
TDheGreA's no pain, there's no more sor row
TDheGy'Are 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
SDo GI A walked as the day was dawn ing
WDheGreA small birds sang and leaves were fall ing
WDheGreA we once watched the row boats land ing
BDy GthAe D broad majestic Shan non
DGDBmDGAD
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