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I gceártain Mhicil is gnáthach miseGo bearrtha cimilte gléasta, An oíche ag titim, mo phíp ar inneall ’S mé im shuí cois boilg ag séideadh, Bíonn caortha dearga tréana ag preabadh ’Na dtréadaí mallaithe dóite, Agus sárfhear imeartha ag tiomáint le fuinneamh I gceártain Mhicil de hÓra.
Níl fál ar barrchrith, báire ar fhaiche, Ná ráfla a ceapadh sa dúiche, Ná bíonn á stealladh le líofacht teangan Is suíomhaint chealgach dúr air, Is ann a thagann le fonn chun bladair An mheabhair is fearr sa pharóiste – Mhuise b’fhearr de dhuine bheith lá ina gcuileachta I gceártain Mhicil de hÓra.
Ó Ladhar an Aitinn go Ladhar an Bhealaigh ’S id radharc go barr Chruacháin theas, Gach miúil is capall is crúibín asail – Ansúd a thagann go dtí an cheárta. Bíonn rámhainne geala agus sleáin, a chara, Grafáin is spranganna gleoite Go sásta milis ar scáth an dorais I gceártain Mhicil de hÓra.
Bíonn Tomás an Chapaill is Seán an Asail Le dhá shórt seanrud aosta ann, Mártan searbh na Cránach mallaithe Is fáinne cealgach géar uaidh, Iarnaí trucaile ó Liam an Ghlugair Is cliath ó Dhonncha an Chóta – Mhuise chráfadh cuid acu bráithre Mheilearaí I gceártain Mhicil de hÓra.
Mo ghraidhin é Micil ar aghaidh na tine Go meidhreach fiosrach cainteach, Mo ghrá mo chara go láidir tapa Is é ag láimhsiú hamar le hintinn, Má thránn sé gloine ag sáil na tine Is le grá don chuileachta ghleoite é – An bás id ghaire go brách nár thige A cheárta Mhicil de hÓra.
In forge Mhicil usual yours That trimmed cimilte mounting, night falling, my phíp engine And I m sitting by stomach blowing, are berries red robust bounce 'The dtréadaí ashen burned, And sárfhear playing driving energy in forge Mhicil of Hora.
No fence barrchrith, foremost of pitches, not rumor designed in the district, not have been pouring with language fluency is treacherous suíomhaint it stupid, There comes a desire to blather the best mind in the parish - Mhuise preferably someone be days gcuileachta In forge Mhicil of Hora.
From Toe Furze to Toe Route And id sight top Croghan south Every mule is a horse Baunree donkeys - there known to come to the forge. There rámhainne bright and sleáin Dear weeders that spranganna cute Very happy sweet shade the door In forge Mhicil of Hora.
Tomás Grand is John the Donkeys With two types seanrud elderly there, Mártan bitter the Sow ashen a ring insidious urgently, Iarnaí truck from Liam Ghlugair a stave from Dhonncha the Coat - Mhuise chráfadh some friars Melleray In forge Mhicil of Hora .
Dear heart is Micil on the fire In merry curious talkative, I love my friend strongly fast is handling hamar faith, if the tide goes out glass at the heels of the fire is the love of chuileachta nestled it - The death id closest ever not thige a forge Mhicil of Hora.
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