The Pogues Follow

The last time I saw you was down at the Greeks

There was whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks

You sang me a song as pure as the breeze

Blowing up the road to Glenaveigh

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 at Shinrone

Their hearts in Tipperary wherever they go

Take my hand, and dry your tears babe

Take my hand, forget your fears babe

There's no pain, there's no more sorrow

They're 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

So I walked as day was dawning

Where small birds sang and leaves were falling

Where we once watched the row boats landing

By the broad majestic Shannon