Green sleeves
The green hills
Are washed by the sea
Of the swirling fragrant air.
The green hills
Are so dear to me –
They are the home of my Lady so fair!
There is much spring
Green in my eyes…
You are my spring,
My shamrock star.
My heart is the violin
With only one string.
Your dress is as green
As the meadows afar…
My loneliness grows as a magic bean;
And even the Irish mist cries,
I’m dying for you, my Emerald star,
But Love never dies!
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