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Seal dá rabhas im mhaighdean shéimh,’S anois im bhaintreach chaite thréith, Mo chéile ag treabhadh na dtonn go tréan De bharr na gcnoc ’s in imigéin, Sé mo laoch, mo ghille mear, Sé mo Shaesar, gille mear, Suan ná séan ní bhfuaireas féin ó luadh i gcéin mo ghille mear.
Bímse buan ar buairt gach ló, Ag caí go cruaidh ’s ag tuar na ndeor Ó scaoileadh uainn an buachaill beo ’S ná ríomhtar tuairisc uaidh, mo bhrón, Sé mo laoch, mo ghille mear …
Ní labhraíonn cuach go suairc ar neoin, Is bíonn guth gadhair i gcoillte cnó, Gach maidin shamhraidh i ngleanntaibh cheoidh, Ó scaoileadh uaim an buachaill beo. Sé mo laoch, mo ghille mear …
Is cosúil é le hAonghus óg, Le Lughaidh Mac Céin na mbéimeann mór, Le Conchubhar, cáidhmhac Náis na nós, Taoiseach aoibhinn Chraoibhe an cheoil, Sé mo laoch, mo ghille mear …
Marcach uasal uaibhreach óg, Gas gan ghruaim is suairce snó, Glac is luaimneach luath i ngleo, Ag treascairt an tslua is ag tuargain treon, Sé mo laoch, mo ghille mear …
Seinntear stáir ar chláirsigh cheoil, Is líontar táinte cárt ar bord, Le hintinn ard gan cháim gan cheo Chun saol is sláinte d’fháil dom leon.
Gille mear ’s a seal faoi chumha, Is Éire go léir faoi chlócaí dubha, Suan ná séan ní bhfuaireas féin ó luadh i gcéin mo ghille mear. Sé mo laoch, mo ghille mear …
Seal if I was my gentle maiden, and now im widow last feature, My spouse plowing the waves strongly Over the hills and far away, He is my hero, my ghille fast, He is my Shaesar, Gille fast, Rest or pleasure I did not distance myself from my ghille noted in quick.
Bímse permanent concern every day, At IMF predicting hard and the tears Since we released the boy alive and not calculated from him, my sorrow, He is my hero, my quick ghille ...
Not speak pleasantly neon cuckoo, a dog in the woods voice becomes nut All summer morning in ngleanntaibh cheoidh, Since I released the boy alive. He is my hero, my quick ghille ...
It seems a young Aonghus, Le Louis Mac Cian large mbéimeann, Le Bor, Naas cáidhmhac the like, Taoiseach Championship delightful music, He is my hero, my quick ghille ...
Noble, proud young horseman, Gas or grief most pleasant complexion, Take moving hand in a fight early, at the downfall of the crowd is beating treon, He is my hero, my quick ghille ...
Played on musical harps, a wealth filled liquor board, With high flawless intent or mist For life and health to get me a lion.
Gille fast and while under sorrow, is all Ireland under black chlócaí, Rest or pleasure I did not mention in the distance from my quick ghille. He is my hero, my quick ghille ...
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