This is a song that I had heard many times before, but I was only drawn to it after learning more about it at Sean-nos Northwest. This is a macaronic song - exists as a song with both Irish and English lyrics. It is also portrays examples of liminality. Drunkenness is the greatest of these examples, being the state somewhere between life and death.
Immortal and divine, great Bacchus, god of wine
Create me by adoption your own son.
In hopes that you'll comply, That my glass shall ne'er run dry
Nor my darlin' little crúiscín lán, lán, lán.
Nor My darlin' little crúiscín lán.
Grá mo choí, mo chrúiscín, sláinte geal, mo mhuirnín,
(love of my heart, my little jug, bright good health, my darling)
Grá mo choí, mo chrúiscín lán.
(love of my heart, my full little jug.)
Grá mo choí, mo chrúiscín, sláinte geal mo mhuirnín,
Is cuma liom do chúilín dubh nó bán.
(It's all the same to me if your hair is black or white.)
Let the farmer praise his grounds, let the huntsman praise his hounds,
Let the shepherd praise his dewy scented lawn.
I'm more wise than they, spend each happy night and day
With my precious little crúiscín lán, lán, lán.
With my darling little crúiscín lán.
There's my Buachaill Bán, he's a kind true-hearted one.
He's a modest and as gentle as a swan.
His lips are so divine, I will coif them up with wine
His sweet lips should be my crúiscín lán, lán, lán.
His sweet lips should be my crúiscín lán.
And when grim Death appears, in a few uncertain years,
And says that my glass it is gone,
I'll say, "Begone, you knave! For great Bacchus gave me leave
To fill another crúiscín lán, lán, lán.
To fill another crúiscín lán.
So fill your glasses high Let us part with lips not dry
For the lark now proclaims it is the dawn
And since we can't remain May we shortly meet again
To share another crúiscín lán, lán, lán.
To share another crúiscín lán.