The pale moon was rising above yon green mountain,|
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea,
When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain,
That stands in the beautiful vale of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair, as the rose of the summer,
Yet t'was not her beauty alone that won me.
Oh no, t'was the truth in her eye ever dawning,
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee!
2. The cool shades of evening their mantle were spreading,
And Mary, all smiling, stood list'ning to me,
The moon through the valley her pale rays was shedding,
When I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.
Added later, perhaps by the original author.
In the far fields of India, 'mid wars dreadful thunder,
Her voice was a solace and comfort to me,
But the chill hand of death has now rent us asunder,
I'm lonely tonight for the Rose of Tralee.
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