A Stor Mo Chroí, When You're Far Away

From The Home That You'll Soon Be Leaving

It's Many An Hour Through The Night And Day

Your Heart Will Be Surely Grieving

The Stranger's Land May Be Bright And Fair

And Rich In Its Treasures Golden

But You'll Mourn I Know, For The Long Ago

And The Home You Are Leaving Behind You



A Stor Mo Chroí, In The Stranger's Land

There Is Plenty Of Wealth And Weeping

Where Gems Adorn The Rich And The Grand

There Are Faces With Hunger Paling

When The Road Is Rough And Hard To Tread

When The Lights Of Their Cities Are Blinding

Then Turn A Stor To That Eastern Shore

And The Home You Are Leaving Behind You



A Stor Mo Chroí When The Evening Mist

Over Mountain And Sea Is Falling

Then Turn Away From The Troubled Waves

And Maybe You'll Hear Me Calling

For The Sound Of A Voice, That I'll Surely Miss

For Someone's Quick Returning

Ah Ruan, Ah Ruan, Won't You Come Back Soon

To The Love That Is Always Burning