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.
Writer(s): John Mcdermott
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