Tipperary Mountain High

There's some of us have deemed to fight From Tipperary mountains high Noble men with wills of iron Who are not afraid to die Who'll fight with gaelic honour held on high





Alone, all alone, by the wave-washed strand
All alone in the crowded hall
The hall it is gay and the waves they are grand
But my heart is not there at all,
It flies far away, by night and by day
To the times and the joys that are gone
But I never can forget the sweet maiden I met
In the valley of Slievenamon.


In the festive ball and the wave-washed shore
My restless spirit cries -
`My land, oh my land, shall I never see you more,
My country will you never uprise.
By night and by day I will ever, ever pray,
As darkly my life it rolls on,
To see our flag unrolled and my true love unfold
In the valley near Slievenamon.