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Is amárach Lá fhéile Cáilín is nach deas an áit a bheith i gConamara, Sínte siar i dtóin an chábáin is mo dheasláimhín á croitheadh, Dheamhan sin cailín óg deas a mbeadh shawl-cloth ar a baclainn, Nach bhfiafródh dá máithrín cár fhága sí Taimín.
Is a Taimín, a mhíle stóirín, an bhfuil fóirithint ar bith i ndán dúinn? Nó an dtiocfaidh sé sa saol Fódlach go mbeidh aon lóistín amháin againn? Tá mo chamán is mo liathróid is caonach liath orthu faoin leaba, Is go mbuailfinn boc báire chomh hard leis an ngealach.
Is a dheirfiúirín dhílis, tabhair an méid seo leat abhaile, Mo stocaí agus mo bhróga is mo chóitín donn daite, Aithris do mo mháithrín atá le ráithe fada ar an leaba, Gurb é an róipín caol cnáibe a bheas in áit mo charbhata.
Ar maidin Dé Céadaoin is mé ag triall isteach ’Gaillimh Bhí na boltaí crua fáiscthe ar mo dhá láimhín gheala, Bhí an Búrcach ar thaobh díom, an Ruarcach is buachaill an tsagairt, Agus an Coscarach bradach bréagach ag tabhairt mionn éithigh le mé a thligean.
Ar maidin Dé hAoine is mé ag fágáil amach Ghaillimh, Ba mhaith crua an lá é is níor chruaichte ná an chinniúint, Bhí mo mhama go mór ag caoineadh is mo dheaide ag gabháil ’un laige, Agus Neide is a chnámha spíonta i ngyard an phríosúin istigh i nGaillimh.
Agus léan ort, a William Daly, brón mór agus deacair, Agus mallacht mo cheathrar páistí ar do cheann is ar do theaghlach, Mar is tú a rinne an gníomh gránna ar an tsráid seo i gCaisleán an Bharraigh, Nuair a dhíbir tú mé thar sáile san áit nach féidir liom a thíocht abhaile.
Nach iomaí lá breá aerach a chaith mé ar shléibhte Chonamara, Mo mhuintir i mo thimpeall is cé déarfadh liom ‘Fág an bealach’ Ach anois ó tá mé i ngéibheann is nach bhfuil faill go deo agam a thíocht abhaile, Cuirim slán agus beannacht Dé lena bhfuil taobh thiar díom i gConamara.
Is tomorrow Day festival girl is not a nice place to be in Connemara, Extended back in the back of the cab and my dheasláimhín being shaken, swear that young pretty girl to a shawl-cloth on her arms, not bhfiafródh both her ??mother to where fhága she Taimín.
Is Taimín, O my darling, is the relief of any in store for us? Or is it comes in the life Fódlach that any accommodation only us? My hurley my ball mold under a bed, is me to meet BOC initially as high as the moon.
Dheirfiúirín as true, the amount you bring home, my socks and my shoes and my colored brown Ballycotton, Tell my mother for a long quarter of the bed, That the narrow róipín hemp will replace my charbhata.
On Wednesday morning as I was going into 'Galway was the bolt hard clasped my two Hand sea, was the Búrcach side of me, the Ruarcach a boy the priest, and the triumph pirate false bringing perjury to me thligean.
On Friday morning I am leaving out Galway, would hard the day is not chruaichte than fate, My Maam highly crying my dheaide engaged 'un weakness, and Nest as bones spent in ng yard the Galway inner prison.
And grieve you, to William Daly, great sadness and difficult, and curse my four children for one is your family, As you did the act ugly on this street in Castlebar, When banished you I abroad where I can not thíocht home.
Not many fine day gay I spent mountains of Connemara, My people around me and who would say I 'out of the way' But now I'm in jail is not chance hugely to thíocht home, I survived and blessing of God with behind me are in Connemara.
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