A Stór Mo Chroí

A STÓR MO CHROÍ
A stór mo chroí when you're far away
from the home that you'll soon be leaving.
And it's many a time by night and day,
That your heart will sorely be grieving.

For the stranger's land may be bright and fair
And rich in its treasures golden,
You'll pine, I know, for the long ago
And the love that is never olden

A stór mo chroí in the stranger's land
There is plenty of wealth and wailing
Where gems adorn the great and the grand
There are faces with hunger a paling.

When road that is toilsome hard to tread
Lights of the city will blind you
Oh, turn a stór to the eastern shore,
And the ones you're leaving behind you

A stór mo chroí in the evening mist,
o'er mountains and sea's falling
Oh, turn the throng and then you list
Then maybe you'll hear me a calling.

The sound of a voice that I'll sorely miss.
Somebody's quickly returning.
Arún, arún, won't you come back soon
To the love that's always burning.

When road that is toilsome hard to tread
Lights of the city will blind you
Arún, arún, won't you come back soon
To the ones you're leaving behind you

And the ones that'll always guide you