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A Stor Mo Chroi 
A Stor Mo Chroi 
A Stor Mo Chroi, when you're far away From the house that you'll soon be leaving, Sure it's many a time by night and by day That your heart will be sorely grieving. For the stranger's land may be bright and fair, And rich in all treasures golden. You'll pine, I know, for the long, long ago And the heart that is never olden. 
A Stor Mo Chroi, in the stranger's land There's plenty of wealth and wailing. Though gems adorn the rich and grand There are faces with hunger pailing. The road may be weary, and hard to tread And the lights of the city blind you. Oh turn, A Stor, to old Erin's shore And the ones you have left behind you. 
A Stor Mo Chroi, when the evening's mist In the mountain and meadow is falling, Oh turn, A Stor, from the throng and list And maybe you'll hear me calling. For the sound of a voice that you seldom hear For somebody's speedy returning. Aroon, aroon, Oh, won't you come back soon To the one who really loves you. 
Traditional Words supplied by Karen Casey of Waterford TN apr97