Tintilia is a red Italian wine grape variety that is grown in the Molise region of east-central Italy. A red wine made from the grape was classified as Denominazione di origine controllata (DOC) in 2011.
Its name could be originated from “Tinto”, meaning “red” in Spanish.
The area of production of the grapes for the production of wines with D.O.C. “Tintilia del Molise”, include lands suited to quality and suitable for the cultivation of grapevines in the provinces of Campobasso and Isernia.
The D.O.C. “Tintilia del Molise” is reserved for those wines meeting the conditions and requirements established by this production regulations for the following types:
Wines with D.O.C. “Tintilia del Molise” must be produced from grapes grown in vineyards consisting, in the farm area, of at least 95% Tintilia vines. To produce these wines can also be used other non-aromatic grapes suitable for cultivation in the provinces of Campobasso and Isernia, existing in the farm vineyards, alone or in combination, up to a maximum of 5%.
Oh the palm trees wave on high all along that fertile shore
Adieu, you Hills of Kerry, I never will see you more
Oh, why did I leave my home, And why did I cross the sea?
And leave the small birds singing around you sweet Tralee
The noble and the brave have departed from your shore
They´ve gone, they've gone to fight the war's, where the mighty cannons roar
Will they ever again return To see old Ireland free
And hear the small birds singing, around you sweet Tralee
Will I ever see the shamrock, that sprig so fine and grand
Or hear the curlew flying high O'er lowly Banna Strand
As I stand on this foreign shore And think on what might be
Will I ever more return again, to see you sweet Tralee
No more I'll see the sunbeams on that precious harvest morn
Or hear our reaper singing in a field of golden corn
There´s an end to every woe and a cure for every pain
But the laughing eye's of my darling girl, I never will see again
Oh the palm trees wave on high all along that fertile shore
Adieu, you Hills of Kerry, I never will see you more
Oh, why did I leave my home, And why did I cross the sea?
And leave the small birds singing, around you sweet Tralee