Preab san ól [English translation]

Why spend your leisure bereft of pleasure?

Amassing treasure, why scrape and save?

Why look so canny at every 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

Is iomaí slí sin do bhíos ag daoine

Ag cruinniú píosaí is ag déanamh stóir

'S a laghad a smaoiníos ar ghiorra a’ tsaoil seo

Go mbeidh siad sínte faoi leac go fóill

Más tiarna tíre, diúc no rí thú

Ní cuirfear pingin leat ‘s tú ‘dul faoin bhfód

Mar sin is dá bhrí sin, níl beart níos críonna

Ná bheith go síoraí ag cur preab san ól

King Solomon's glory, so famed in story

Was far outshone by the lily's 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

Is gearr an saol ‘tá ag an lílí sciamhach

Cé gur buí agus gur geal a ghabháil

Is Solamh críonna ina chulaith riúil

Nach bhfuil baol air in áille dhó

Níl sa tsaol seo ach mar soinneán gaoithe

Ga a scaoiltear nó slám de cheo

Mar sin ‘s dá bhrí sin, níl beart níos críonna

Ná bheith go síoraí ag cur preab san ól

The huckster greedy, he blinds the needy

Their strifes unheeding, shouts "Money down!"

His special vices, his fancy prices

For a florin's value he'll charge a crown

With hump for trammel, the scripture's camel

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!