[Verse 1]
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

[Verse 2]
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

[Verse 3]
Why spend your leisure bereft of pleasure
Amassing treasure, why scrimp 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 ever they're bound
So to my thinking we'd best be drinking
Our glasses clinking around and round

[Verse 4]
King Solomon's glory, so famed in story
Was far outshined by the lily's guise
But hard winds harden both the field and garden
Pleading for pardon, the lily dies
Life's but a bauble of toil and trouble
The feathered arrow, once shot never found
So lads and lasses, because life passes
Come fill your glasses for another round

[Instrumental]