A stór mo chroí, when you're far away
From the house that you'll soon be leaving
Sure 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 ago
And the heart that is never olden.

A stór mo chroí, in the stranger's land
There's plenty of wealth, and of wailing
Though gems adorn the great and grand
There are faces with hunger pailing
The road may be weary, and hard to tread
And the lights of the city blind you
Oh turn, a stór, to Erin's green shore
And the ones you have left behind you.

A stór mo chroí, when the evening's mist
On mountain and meadow is falling
Oh turn, a stór, from the throng and list
And maybe you'll hear me calling
For the sound of a voice that you'll surely miss
For somebody's speedy returning
A rún, a rún, won't you come back soon
To the ones who truly love you?