The last time I saw you it was down at The Greek There was whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks You sang me a song as pure as the breeze On the road leading up Glenveagh 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 in Shinrone Their hearts in Tipperary wherever they roam Take my hand, and dry your tears Shane Take my hand, forget your fears Shane There's no pain, there's no more sorrow They're all gone, gone in the years Shane I sat for a while by a gap in the wall On a rusty tin can and an old hurling 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, tears on our cheeks But its stupid to laugh and it's useless to bawl About a rusty tin can and an old hurling ball Take my hand, and dry your tears Shane Take my hand, forget your fears Shane There's no pain, there's no more sorrow They're all gone, gone in the years Shane So I walked as day was dawning Where small birds sang and the leaves were falling Where we once watched the row boats landing By the broad majestic Shannon Where we once watched the row boats landing By the broad majestic Shannon