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Ó, ’gus éirigh in do shuí, a bhean an leanna, is ná fan le do chaipín gléas, Ná go bhfaighe tú dhom braon uisce beatha nó cárt do chuid leanna atá agat féin Mar beidh muid ag ól anseo go maidin, seo sláinte na bhfear uilig go léir, Is nuair a fhágfas an mháistreas an baile, beidh an cailín is deise agam féin.
A Dhia, céard a dhéanfas mé amáireach, nuair a fheicfeas mé mo ghrá ag teacht aniar, Is nuair nach bhféadfadh mé a theacht ina láthair leis an méid a bhí eadrainn ariamh, Nuair a smaoiním ar a súgradh is ar a gáirí, is ar inneach a dá láimhín fial, Ó, briseann mo chroí bocht le dólás agus caoinfidh mé go mór ina diaidh.
Bí mise lá agus mé go súgach, is mé ag triall ar tigh Mhicil sa ngleann, Bhí stumpán de thincéara caoch ann agus jug poitín líonta aige ar chlár, Thiteamar marbh lag síos ann, gan preab inár gcos ná inár láimh, Sé beannacht shíol Éabha is shíol Ádhaimh air agus íocfaidh mise an reicneáil.
Is fada mo chosa gan bróga, is fada mo phócaí gan pingin, Is fada mé ag ól le mná óga ach níor ól mé ariamh deoir le mo mhian, Is fada mo chónra dá déanamh, mo thumba á priontáil ag na saoir, Mo chróchair dá bhreacadh lá earraigh, is na buachaillí bána ag dul faoi.
Shiúil mise cnoic agus sléibhte agus gleanntrachaí a bhí géar ar a mbarr, Is a lán bealaí eile a déarfainn is gan unsa ar bith céille i mo ceann, Ag cur tuairisce mo stáidbheainín bhéasach nach sínfidh sí taobh liom go brách, Is go mba chóir di a bheith sínte taobh thuas díom ná a bheith i nGaillimh dhá uairín roimh an lá.
Oh, and succeeded in sitting, a woman of me, and do not wait for a cap device, not you will soon get me a drop of whiskey or liquor your beer of yourself as we will be drinking here until morning, this men's health all in all, is when the mistress leaves the home, the nicest girl myself.
God, what will I do tomorrow, when fheicfeas my love is resilient, is when I might come before it with what was between us ever, When I think of his play and his laughs, most of weft Hand to his generous, Oh, my poor heart breaks with sorrow and I greatly caoinfidh beyond.
Make yours a day and I make merry, as I approached the house Mhicil in the valley, was stumpán of thincéara blind and jug poitín completed his program, Thiteamar dead poor down there, not kick our feet or our hands, He goodbye seed Eve it is the seed of Adam and I will pay the reicneáil.
Long my feet without shoes, as long my pockets without a penny, as long I am drinking to young women but not drink I ever drop my desire, long my coffin if doing, my thumba when printing with the masons, My chróchair two plot spring day, as the white boys going under.
I walked the hills and mountains and gleanntrachaí was sharp at the top, are many other ways that I would say that without oz any sense in my head, Taking report my stáidbheainín polite not extend her hand me forever, is that should it be stretched above me than being in Galway two days uairín before.
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