Let the farmer praise his grounds, let the huntsman praise his hounds Let the shepherd praise his dewyscented lawn Oh but I'm more wise than they, spend each happy night and day With my darlin' little cruiscín lán, lán, lán My darlin' little cruiscín lán
Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín Slainte geal Mauverneen Oh, graw moh kree moh krooshkeen Slawnta gal MohvoorneenI Gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán, lán, lán Graw moh kree moh krooshkeen lawn, lawn, lawn Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán Oh, graw moh kree moh krooshkeen lawn
Immortal and divine, Great Bacchus, god of wine Create me by adoption your own son In hopes that you'll comply that my glass shall ne'er run dry Nor my darlin' little cruiscín lán, lán, lán My darlin' little cruiscín lán
Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín Slainte geal Mauverneen Gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán, lán, lán Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán
Oh, when cruel death appears in a few but happy years You'll say: "Oh, won't you come along with me?" I'll say: "Begone, you knave, for King Bacchus gave me lave To take another cruiscín lán, lán, lán To take another cruiscín lán"
Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín Slainte geal Mauverneen Gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán, lán, lán Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán
Then fill your glasses high, let's not part with lips so dry For the lark now proclaims it is the dawn And since we can't remain, may we shortly meet again To fill another cruiscín lán, lán, lán To fill another cruiscín lán
Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín Slainte geal Mauverneen Gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán, lán, lán Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán