There's a pretty spot in Ireland,
I always claimed for my land,
Where the fairies and the blarney
will never, never die.
It's the land of the shillelagh,
my heart goes back there daily,
To the girl I left behind me,
when we kissed and said
goodbye.
Where dear old Shannon's flowing,
where the three -leaf shamrock grows,
Where my heart is,
I'm going to my little Irish rose.
And the moment that I meet her,
with a hug and kiss I'll greet her.
For there's not a calling sweeter
Where the River Shannon flows.
Where dear old Shannon's flowing,
Where the three -leaved shamrock grows,
Where my heart is, I am going
To my little Irish rose.
And the moment that I meet her,
with a hug and a kiss I'll
greet her.
For there's not a calling sweeter,
where the river Sharon flows.
Never was a sweeter call
ing goodness known
Than this little Irish rose.
Where dear old Shannon's flowing,
Where the three -leaf shamrock grows,
Where my heart is,
I'm going to my little Irish rose.
And the moment that I meet her,
with a hug and kiss I'll greet her.
For there's not a calling sweeter
Where the River Shannon flows.