If I own the Gharra MAM,
ink-and-paper I have there,
would like to scríobhfainn in black and white, is
the beautiful praise 'was on the valley,
He ndéarfainn to urge King of grace.
Intelligence Hómair to be in my head
and that his goodness I would mention it,
But sadly is faint m'intleacht.

Comprise said a man from Achill me, 'Do not you care,
Do not weep and lament in a Back of the Hill,
I shall woman you two hundred cows to her,
is acres of meadows per head,
Boats eangachaí are in together
A would acquisition in the waves,
a think Pein, Pein so much better
not be crying and lamenting in a Back of the Hill. '

And if a woman dtugtá me her two hundred cows,
a meadow acres per head,
Whose boats eangachaí most of this from Bo Finn,
Wealth George that I get round them,
Oh I'd bháití acres of wetlands
Forming between the most Máimín Blackthorn Islands,
Permission dance with girls holiday is Sunday,
Around the road, the Binn unrelated Reserve.

The lake tranquility of two is in Ireland,
is the boat is getting it from the waves to the wave,
For those who practiced it as there are now two abandoned,
not small the damaged heart to be sick,
are gentlemen in top of mountain there,
making inflicted on hens grouse,
is salmon is coming from seawater broinngheal there,
the men of Ireland found without pens.

Not cháinfead Achill though I want to leave,
is a pretty wonderful place by strangers,
are food and beds and welcome
a conversation tláith able to find of the night '
But as the fish thigeas nature
In ndéidh to date wear out under the wave,
He as also my two obtain the palace,
I would prefer a small home in the Hill Reserve.

A letter scríofaí I now sealed
A signifies tomorrow to back of the Hill,
That I lie a further three months
For pains some limited and a headache,
But if this is the course that God promised me,
And that with what my liathfadh grief of my head,
my five hundred goodbye, a strange lake,
is the dense woods in the Hill Reserve.

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