THE TOSSERS LYRICS

"Preab San Ol"

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.

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

Thanks to Jake for these lyrics

Thanks to Edganosh for correcting these lyrics

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