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translation of Cruiscin Lan

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Post July 21 2009, 17:24 PM
James R. McCormick
New Arrival
Posts: 1
Could someone provide me with a translation of the version of Cruiscin Lan that Liam Clancy sang on the Two For The Early Dew album with Tommy Makem:


Chuaidh an da Shean is mo Shean-sa ‘dti an aonach
D’adhnadar sparainn is ba dheacair I a reidheach
Bhriseadar a cinn agus ploisc a cheile
Is go b’i bean a’ tabhairne do chosain mo phlaitin feinig
‘Gus fagham aris mo cruiscin is biodh se lan.


Fagham aris mo cruiscin
Slainte geal mo mhuirnin
Is cuma liom a cuilin dubh no ban
Is fagham aris mo cruiscin is biodh se lan

Chuirid-sa mo bhean-sa go Caiseal ag diol ubhla
An da dhiabhal leathpinge thug si cumh-sa
Nach mise an truagh Mhuire ag siubhal an duithche
Ar lorg an tseanasgibe ‘gus an baile ro-chumhang di
‘Gus fagham aris mo cruiscin is biodh se lan


Fagaim-se mo bheannacht ag muinntir an tigh-seo
Do reir mar ata said og agus criona
Mar ni bheinn-se cortha de na gcuideachtain choidhche
Go bhfasa’ an cuileann tri mhullach an tseana thighe-seo
‘Gus fagham aris mo cruiscin is biodh se lan.


Liam posted this on his website. He got the lyrics from an old fisherman in Ring, Co. Waterford, where he lives; and his son-in-law wrote out the words, but alas, not the translation.

Post July 27 2009, 22:31 PM
Posts: 5543

I got this online but the words in English are different to the Irish.

Cruisceen Lan (“The Little Full Jug”)

Let the farmer praise his grounds,
Let the huntsman praise his hounds,
Let the shepherd praise his dewy-scented lawn
But I more wise than they,
Spend each happy night and day
With my darlin’ little cruiscin lan, lan, lan
My darlin’ little cruiscin lan
O Gra mo chroi mo chruiscin
Slainte geal mo mhuirnin
Gra mo chroi mo chruiscin lan, lan, lan
O Gra mo chroi mo chruiscin, lan

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 by darlin’ little cruiscin lan, lan, lan
My darlin’ little cruiscin lan

And when grim death appears
In a few but happy years
He’ll say, Oh, won’t you come along with me
I’ll say, Begone, ye knave
For king Bacchus gave me leave
To take another cruiscin lan, lan, lan
To take another cruiscin lan

Then fill your glasses high
Let’s not part when lips are dry
For the lark now proclaims it is dawn
And since we can’t remain
May we shortly meet again
To fill another cruiscin lan, lan, lan
To fill another cruiscin lan

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