Preab San Ol

[Gaelic Beginning]:
Is iomaí slí sin a bhíos ag daoine
ag cruinniú píosaí is ag déanamh stóir,
is a laghad a smaoiníos ar ghiorra an tsaoil seo
go mbeidh siad sínte faoi leac go fóill.
Más tiarna tíre, diúc nó rí thú,
ní rachaidh pingin leat is tú ag dul faoin bhfód.
Mar sin is dá bhrí sin níl beart níos críonna
ná bheith go síorraí ag cur preab son ól.
An long thar sáile níl cuan nó cearda
nach gcaithfeadh cairde ar fud an domhain mhóir
ó ríocht na Spáinne agus suas Gibraltar
Agus ins an áit a mbíonn an Grand Senor.
Le gach lasta ag líonadh málaí
ní choinneodh an bás uaidh uair nó dhó.
Mar sin, a chairde, níl beart níos fearr dúinn
ná bheith mar táimid ag cur preab san ól.
[Rest in English]:
Why spend your leisure bereft of
pleasure
A massing treasure why scrape and save?
Why look so canny at ev'ry penny?
You'll take no money within the grave
Landlords and gentry with all their plenty
Must still go empty where e'er they're bound
So to my thinking we'd best be drinking
Our glasses clinking and round and round
King Solomon's glory, so famed in story
Was far outshone by the lillies guise
But hard winds harden both field and garden
Pleading for pardon, the lily dies
Life's but a bauble of toil and trouble
The feathered arrow, once shot ne'er found
So, lads and lasses, because life passes
Come fill your glasses for another round
The huckster greedy, he blinds the needy
Their strifes unheeding, shouts "Money down!"
This special vices, his fancy prices
For a florin value he'll charge a crown
With hump for tramel, the scripture's chamel
Missed the needle's eye and so came to ground
Why pine for riches, while still you've stitches
To hold your britches up? Another round