CRÚISCÍN LÁN

THE LITTLE FULL JUG

Let the farmer praise his ground and the huntsman praise his hound

The shepherd his sweet shady grove

I’m more blessed than they, spend each happy night and day

With my smiling little crúiscín lán, lán, lán

With my smiling little crúiscín lán, lán, lán

Grá mo chroí mo chrúiscín, sláinte geal mo mhuirnín

[Graw mo khree mo khrooshkeen, slawncha gyal mo voorneen]

Love of my heart, my little jug, bright health my darling

Grá mo chroí mo chrúiscín, lán, lán, lán

[Graw mo khree mo khrooshkeen, lawn, lawn, lawn]

Love of my heart, my little jug, full, full, full

Grá mo chroí mo chrúiscín, sláinte geal mo mhuirnín

[Graw mo khree mo khrooshkeen, slawncha gyal mo voorneen]

Love of my heart, my little jug, bright health my darling

Is cuma liom do chúilín dubh nó bán.

[Iss cumma lum do khooleen doov no bawn.]

It’s all the same to me (if) your hair is black or white.

Immortal and divine, sweet Bacchus, god of wine

Create me by adoption of your son

In hopes that you'll comply that my glass will ne’er run dry

Nor my smiling little crúiscín lán, lán, lán

Nor my smiling little crúiscín lán, lán, lán

There’s my cailín deas, she's a kind, true-hearted lass [ky-leen dyass, “pretty girl”]

She’s as modest, she's as gentle as a swan

Her smile is so divine, I could quaff it up with wine

Her sweet lips should be my crúiscín lán, lán, lán

Her sweet lips should be my crúiscín lán, lán, lán

And when grim death appears in a few unpleasant years

And says that my glass it has drawn

I’ll say “Begone, you knave, for great Bacchus gave me leave

To fill another crúiscín lán, lán, lán

To fill another crúiscín lán, lán, lán.”

Then fill your glasses high, let them part with lips not dry

For the lark now proclaims it is dawn

And since we can’t remain, may we shortly meet again

To fill another crúiscín lán, lán, lán

To fill another crúiscín lán, lán, lán