English (machine translation)
And long grass is overgrown in glens beautiful far from home,
and apples and sloes and honey are grown on top of gcranna,
If I and my darling married life attached properly during,
would the money in pockets and value the woman drinking the beer.
And a young girl on the side of the mountain is not nice gift is to attract,
Oh, I threw myself last night hoping that I could bring her home,
That chúitíos John Joyce to me the ways,
and he won a crown me on my accommodation and pínne it on my bed.
Is a smudge on the stars, the sun is the moon,
and a view of my eyes myself and I can not see the ways,
as a Cuckoo Glen Nephin could not I ever attract,
and Misty, give the pain I, regards it as your love is my Lagan.
Island me if Ireland and Britain alike, is essential,
Or is the gold craobhaigh by Charles Fahey,
is not all they would give all my sweetheart for his I have,
I Nephin gentle vale or Long Ballina.
And I will leave this place as it is very lonely,
and leanfad of my loved in every place if I get a report,
and I can not see the crossroads, there are tears to my blinded,
He is my sorrow without house my accommodation in gcóiríonn you where your bed.
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