Cruiskeen Lawn

Cruiskeen Lawn.
234.6

Let the farmer praise his grounds, as the hunter does his hounds.
And the shepherd his sweet scented lawn,
While I. more blest than they, spend each night and day each happy
With my smiling little cruiskeen lawn, lawn, lawn.
O, my smiling little cruiskeen lawn.

Leante ruma cruiskeen,
Sleante gar, mavournéen,
Agus, gramachree, ma-colleen, ban, ban, ban.
Agus, gramachree. ma-colleen, ban.

In court with manly grace, should Sir Toby plades his case.
And the merits of his cause made known.
Without his cheerful glass he’d be stupid as an ass,
Bo he takes a little cruiskeen lawn.

Then fill your glasses high, let’s not part with lipa so dry.
Though the lark should proclaim it is dawn:
But, if we can’t remain, may we shortly mest again,
To fill another cruiskeen lawn.

And when grim death appears, after few but happy years.
And tells me my glass it is run.
I’ll say, bexone, you slave, for great Bacchus gives me lave.
Just to fill another cruiskeen lawn.