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