Here's the English version (singable) written by Francis A.Fahy and published in Donal O'Sullivan's "Songs of the Irish" (1960):
Is'nt this the most pitiful story That ever touched heart to the core Today we saw Owen to glory From Cregan-a-line to Fallmore Such wailing and loud lamentation Were ne'er heard in Erin before For we've lost our best friend in creation The kind, tender-hearted Owen Coir!
He had everyone's love and affection The withered old man and the young With the highest and lowest connection The praise of his big heart was sung With the pick and the pride of the people Although he liked best to spend free He'd never say No to a tipple From folks of the lowest degree
Poor Gavin's in deep tribulation And Boyle won't be long to the fore Since they lost their best friend in creation Their hearts are with grief brimming o'er There never, I'm thinking, yet measured His length in the battle's uproar A hero this couple more cherished Than the soft-hearted craythur, Owen Core
'Twas he that was good at rent-taking Made light of a month here and there Till you'd sell the frieze coat you'd be making Or your young heifer calf at the fair 'Twas thinking of all his good labours Made Shamus so fervently pray "The same as he was to the neighbours May Jesus be to him this day!"
Put in one line with a seven And eight after that doubled o'er He went on his journey - to Heaven And the devil a word he spoke more 'Tis laid down by poet and prophet Some day to the Grave we'll all go But while we can keep our legs off it A drink is the best cure for woe!