'Stór, A Stór, A Ghrá by Altan
A stór, a stór, a ghra
A stór, a stór an dtiocfaidh tu?
A stór, a stór, a grha
An dtiocfaidh tu nó an bhfanfaidh tu?
Bhi me la brea samhraidh i mo sheasamh ar an mhargadh
'S is iomai fear a duirt lion: "Monuar, gan tu sa bhaile agam".
Gheall mo ghra domsa cinnte go dtiocfadh si
Ni raibh a culaith Déanta agus sin an rud a choinnigh i
Thart tóin an gharrai, a Mhaire, bhfuilan fhidil leat?
Aicearra na bpratai go dtéimid' sair an fhidileoir
Mhi mise lan den tsaoil is bhi cion amuigh is istigh orm
Nach mór a dathraigh an saol nuair nach bhfuil eion ag duine ar
One fine summers day as I stood there in the market place
Many a fine young man remarked, “I’m sad you are not home with me.”
My darling, my darling, my love
My darling, my darling, will you come with me
My darling, my darling, my love will you come with me or settled be.
My true love promised kindly that she would surely come with me
Her wedding dress not ready, delayed her in joining me.
We have got water from the Eirne, and green grass from the heaven’s stems
Cows udders are near rending from the overflow of milk in them.
By the bottom of the garden, a Mary, is the fiddle there?
The shortcut by the praties, we’ll hasten to the fiddler.
At one time in my life I was dearly loved by everyone
Haven’t times changed when no one cares a whit for me?