A Stór Mo Chroí

A STÓR MO CHROÍ A stór mo chroí when you're far away from the home that you'll soon be leaving. And it's many a time by night and day, That your heart will sorely be grieving. For the stranger's land may be bright and fair And rich in its treasures golden, You'll pine, I know, for the 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 Where gems adorn the great and the grand There are faces with hunger a paling. When road that is toilsome hard to tread Lights of the city will blind you Oh, turn a stór to the eastern shore, And the ones you're leaving behind you A stór mo chroí in the evening mist, o'er mountains and sea's falling Oh, turn the throng and then you list Then maybe you'll hear me a calling. The sound of a voice that I'll sorely miss. Somebody's quickly returning. Arún, arún, won't you come back soon To the love that's always burning. When road that is toilsome hard to tread Lights of the city will blind you Arún, arún, won't you come back soon To the ones you're leaving behind you And the ones that'll always guide you