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A bhuachaillí, a bhuachaillí, ó molaim sibh go síoraí,Sibh ’thógfadh croí na gcailín ’s chuirfeadh gnaoi ar chruinniú daoine, Nuair a smaointím ar na scafairí is iad cruinn ar Ard an Aonaigh, Ag caochadh ar na streabhógaí is ag cogarnaigh go síodúil, Is líontar dúinn an crúiscín is bíodh sé lán.
Isteach go toigh an leanna libh, a chailíní na dílse, Braon de shú na braiche a chuirfeas mothú in bhur gcroí istigh, Ólfaimid is ceolfaimid is beimid seal go siamsach, Beimid súgach meanmnach is spleoid ar bhuaireamh an tsaoil seo, Is líontar dúinn an crúiscín is bíodh sé lán.
B’ann a bhíodh an chuideachta ag teacht ’na bhaile ón aonach, Ag gealgháirí is ag priollaireacht ’s ag feitheamh lenár mian a fháil, Fá dheireadh théadh an scafaire ar ghreim sciatháin lena chaoinbhean, Síos faoi mhalaí an raithní is iad ag portaíocht go croíúil, Is líontar dúinn an crúiscín is bíodh sé lán.
Oíche fhéile Eoin bhíodh tineadh againn thuas ar Leac an Cháite, An píobaire ag seinm dúinn is sinn go haoibhinn sásta, Is le bodhránacht na maidne théadh gach strugán lena ghrá gheal, Síos fá thaobh an ghleanna nó go gcríochnaíodh siad an t-airneál, Is líontar dúinn an crúiscín is bíodh sé lán.
Is a Dhia na Glóire, an chuideachta a bhíodh thíos ar Leac an tSúiste, Ag cleasaíocht ’s ag gliodaíocht ’s ag peataíocht ’s ag súgradh, An píobaire is an fidileoir ag seinm dúinn go croíúil, A dhamsadh sinn go maidin is níorbh fhada linn an oíche, Is líontar dúinn an crúiscín is bíodh sé lán.
Ár mbeannacht leis na laetha sin, nach mór a d’athraigh an saol seo, Níl grian an tsamhraidh ag taitneamh ann, níl gealach ann san oíche, Níl ceol na n-éan le cluinstin ann, níl fidil ann níl píob ann, Níl ann ach blár fann folamh agus briseann sin mo chroíse, Is líontar dúinn an crúiscín is bíodh sé lán.
A bhuachaillí is a chailíní atá anois ar bheagán buartha, Déanaigí bhur ndícheall de, níl ann ach seal bhur gcuarta, Nó tiocfaidh an lá go tapaidh ’s beidh sibh scartha ar an uaigneas, Ag gol agus ag mairgnigh fán chinniúint a fuair buaidh oraibh, Is líontar dúinn an crúiscín is bíodh sé lán.
Nuair a bheas mé marbh, déanaidh m’fhaire i dtigh na beorach, Ólaigí agus ceolaigí go gcluine mé bhur nglórthaí, Ansin tugaidh ’na cille mé agus déanaigí mo thórramh, Agus baistigí le biotáilte mo chorp agus mo chónair, Is líontar dúinn an crúiscín is bíodh sé lán.
A boys, boys, since I recommend you forever, you 'would take heart the girl and would love to meeting people, When smaointím the scafairí are accurate High Fair, At blinking on the streabhógaí is at cogarnaigh a silky, we filled the jug is that it would be full.
Into a house by the ale you, girls of loyal, Drop juice of malt communicates feeling in your hearts, Ólfaimid most ceolfaimid most will turn to siamsach, will merrily meanmnach most spleoid the trials of this world, is filled us the jug whether it is full.
There was formerly the company coming 'home from the fair, at most by gealgháirí priollaireacht awaiting our wish to get, in the end it went to bite scafaire chaoinbhean wings which, beneath the brow of the fern are warmly portaíocht, is we filled the jug is full either.
Night festivities John was tineadh us above a slab of Troubled, Piper playing us as we are pleasantly satisfied, is the dawning of the morning went all strugán his true love, Virginia was the valley side or'd finish them the night-visit, a we filled the jug is full either.
The God of Glory, the company was below a slab of tSúiste, At cleasaíocht and gliodaíocht and peataíocht and play, Piper is the fidileoir playing us warmly, A dhamsadh us that morning not long during the night, is we filled the jug is full either.
Our blessing to the days that have not changed this world, not the summer sun is shining, there is a moon at night, music is not the birds hear it, there is not no pipe fiddle there, There but feeble blár empty and that breaks my heart, is we filled the jug is full either.
A boys and girls are now a little worried, Make your best of not just turn your gcuarta, Or the day will come quickly and will be separated for the loneliness, Crying and mairgnigh about fate got victory city, is we filled the jug is full either.
When I will be dead, déanaidh m'fhaire in house beer, Drink and I gcluine ceolaigí that your voices, then bring me 'Please do the cell I and my funeral, and biotáilte baistigí with my body and my tombstone, is we filled the jug whether it is full.
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