A Stór Mo Chroí, when you're far away
Far from the land you'll be leaving,
It's many a time by night and by day
That your heart will be sorely grieving.
For the stranger's land may be bright and fair,
And rich in its treasures golden.
But you'll pine, I know, for the long, 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.
Whilst gems adorn the great and the grand
There are faces with hunger pailing.
Though the road is toilsome, and hard to tread
And the lights of their cities will blind you.
Won't you turn a stór to Erin's shore
And the ones that you're leaving behind you.

A Stór Mo Chroí, when the evening's mist
Over mountain and sea is falling,
won't you turn away from the throng
And maybe you'll hear me calling.
For the sound of a voice that is surely missed
For somebody's quick returning.
A ruin, a ruin, oh won't you come back soon
To the ones who will always love you.