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.