Cruiskeen Lawn
Let the farmer praise his grounds, let the hunter praise his hounds,
And the shepherd his sweet scented lawn;
But I, more blest than they, spend each happy night and day
With my charmin' little cruiskeen lawn, lawn, lawn
Oh, my charmin little cruiskeen lawn.CHO: Gra-ma-chree ma-cruiskeen, slainte geal mavoorneen Gra-machree a cool-in bawn, bawn, bawn, Oh! gramachree a coolin bawn
Immortal and divine, great Bacchus, god of wine
Create me by adoption your son.
In hopes that you'll comply, T
Hat my glass shall ne'er run dry
Nor my smilin' little etc.
And when grim Death appears, in a few but pleasant years,
To tell me that my glass has run,I'll say, "
Begone, you knave! For great Bacchus gave me leave
To take another etc.
Recorded by Galvin- Irish Drinking Songs, Clancysfilename
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