Let the [e] farmer praise his grounds
let the [a] huntsman praise his [B7] hounds
let the [e] shepherd praise his dewy scented [B7] lawn
Oh, but [G] I, more wise than they,
spend each [C] happy night and [D7] day
with me [B7] darling little cruiscin [e] lan, lan, lan
me [B7] darling little cruiscin [e] lan.
[G] Gra-ma-chree ma-cruiscin
[D7] slainte geal mavoorneen
[B7] Gra-machree ma cruiscin [e] lan, lan, lan
Oh, [B7] gramachree ma cruiscin [e] lan.
Immortal and divine, great Bacchus, God of Wine
create me by adoption your own son
In hopes that you’ll comply, that my glass will ne’er run dry
Nor my darling little cruiscin lan, lan, lan
Oh, my darling little cruiscin lan.
And when grim death appears in those few but happy years
And says, “Oh, won’t you come along with me?”
I’ll say “Begone, you knave! for King Baccus gave me leave
to take another cruiscin lan, lan, lan
to take another cruiscin lan.
Then fill your glasses high, lets not part with lips a-dry
though the lark doth now proclaim it is the dawn
and since we can’t remain, may we shortly meet again
to fill another cruiscin lan, lan, lan
to fill another cruiscin lan.
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