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