The Rose Of Tralee

The pale moon was rising
 above the 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,
 But 'twas not her beauty
 Alone that won me.
 Oh no, 'twas the truth
 In her eyes ever dawning
 That made me love Mary,
 The Rose of Tralee.
 The cool shades of evening
 Their mantle were spreading
 And Mary, all smiling,
 Was listening to me.
 The moon through the valley
 Her pale rays was shedding
 When I won the heart of
 The Rose of Tralee.
 Though lovely and fair
 As the rose of the summer
 But it was not her beauty
 Alone that won me.
 Oh no, 'twas the truth
 In her eyes ever dawning
 That made me love Mary
 The Rose of Tralee.
 In some part of India
 There ...
 The smile was the comfort
 The dearest to me.
 The chill hand of death
 Was my Rose of Tralee
 She was lovely and fair
 Like the Rose of the summer
 But it was not her beauty
 Alone that won me.
 Oh no, 'twas the truth
 In her eyes ever dawning
 That made me love Mary
 The Rose of Tralee.