The Rose of Tralee

My Great-Aunt Julie died a few weeks ago at the incredible age of 101. She was a remarkable woman: she grew up in a small town in Ireland before it was "Ireland," was a nurse during WWII, then met and married a Canadian and moved to Alberta. She had ridden a camel, a motorcycle, and been flown across the Arctic Circle, and was entitled to the full benefits and respects that are accorded to such a hearty adventurer.

She was still sharp as a tack at her 100th birthday in May 2012. We sang her favourite song, The Rose of Tralee, changing the name to Julie. That's her on the lower left.


At her funeral reception today, we sang it again.

The pale moon was rising above the green mountain,
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea;
As 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 in the summer,
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning,
That made me love Julie, the Rose of Tralee.

The cool shades of evening their mantle were spreading
And Julie all smiling sat listening to me;
The moon through the valley her pale light was shedding
As I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning,
That made me love Julie, the Rose of Tralee.