Текст песни Clancy Brothers - Cruiskeen Lawn
Clancy Brothers - Cruiskeen Lawn слова песни
Cruiskeen LawnLet the farmer praise his grounds, let the hunter praise his hounds,And the shepherd his sweet scented lawn;But I, more blest than they, spend each happy night and dayWith my charmin` little cruiskeen lawn, lawn, lawnOh, my charmin little cruiskeen lawn.CHO: Gra-ma-chree ma-cruiskeen, slainte geal mavoorneen Gra-machree a cool-in bawn, bawn, bawn, Oh! gramachree a coolin bawnImmortal and divine, great Bacchus, god of wineCreate me by adoption your son.In hopes that you`ll comply, THat my glass shall ne`er run dryNor my smilin` little etc.And when grim Death appears, in a few but pleasant years,To tell me that my glass has run,I`ll say, "Begone, you knave! For great Bacchus gave me leaveTo take another etc.Recorded by Galvin- Irish Drinking Songs, Clancysfilename[ CRUSKEENRG===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===