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Mo shlán beo soir mar ar tógadh mé,Is mé óg i dtús mo shaoil, Ar an mbáinseog mín ag an Inse Ghlais, Mar a mbíonn na bric ar scéith. Na géis ar linn is an fhaoileán gheal, Go sítheach ag trácht ón spéir, Agus gáir ag an dtoinn de dhroim na leac, Ag sleamhnú isteach sa ché.
Maidin chiúin nárbh aoibhinn siúl, Ar chiumhais na habhann ba ghlé, Mar a gcloisinn an uaill go minic im chluais, Ó shíorghuth buan na n-éan. Bhíodh an druid is an chuach is an smóilín suairc, Is an fhuiseog thuas san aer, An spideoigín broinn is an lon dubh binn, Is an traonach thíos sa bhféar.
Go tráigh na hÍne nárbh aoibhinn dul, Ar éirí aníos don ghréin Mar a mbíodh garsún de m’aois go síoraí ag teacht, Ag imirt bháire thréan. Bhí ‘Cuirim ort’ agus ‘Leogaim leat’ Ag togha na bhfear ar gach taobh, Is an liathróid chruinn le camáin ghroí, Dá bualadh deas is clé.
Amach sa bhád nárbh álainn imeacht, Ar dhorchú na rae, Is na maidí rámha i láimh na bhfear, Go pras ag tógaint léi. Go Lúb an Rinnín is go hOileán Duinn, Is go Sceilg Mhichíl na Naomh, Ag gabháilt sa linn gach éisc dá dtéann, Is á dtabhairt i dtír gan spéis.
Ar an nGleanntán chaoin nárbh ard mo chroí, San am go dtíodh an Fheis, Sin Lae Mhichíl ba thréine claímh, Lena hobair dhílis féin Mara bhfaigheadh na daill a radharc gan mhoill, Ag priocadh fríd le gréin, Agus crois mhaidí ina mbirt cois claí, I ndiaidh bhacaigh a gheibheadh a léim.
Tá mo shúil le Críost le filleadh arís, Anonn thar an dtaoide ghéar, Mar a mbíonn mo bhuíon is gile croí, Gan camastaíl gan claon, Chun mé a chur leo síos agus aiséirí, Is go mbeid arís lem thaobh, Ag triall na slí go Calvairí, Lá breithe dhílis Dé.
My sound live east where I was raised, I am young in the beginning of my life, on the mbáinseog finely Inch Green, As are the trout shields. These gases us that the Gull bright, Very quiet traffic from the sky, and cry at the dtoinn consequence the sill, sliding into the pier.
Calm morning was not pleasant walk, On the edge of the river was clear, As gcloisinn the howling often my ears, From shíorghuth permanent bird. Once the starling as the cuckoo is the thrush chanting, is the lark above in the air, The spideoigín womb blackbird is sweet, is the corncrake in the grass below.
That beach was not pleasant to the henna, on rising to the sun As a former boy of my age to come eternal, Playing strong playboy. Was 'I need' and 'you Leogaim' At the best of men on each side, is the mighty round ball with sticks, would meet a nice left.
Out in the boat was not beautiful event, On darken the row, is the oars in hand men, Promptly taking it. In Loop Rineen the Island Don, is to Skellig Michael Saints him heading in the course of each fish two goes, is landed without interest.
On Gleanntán graciously not high my heart, In time to dtíodh the Feis, That Day Michael was strongest sword, In the work of true self Mara would blind their sight without delay, At twingle through the sun, and cross sticks a mbirt ditches, after that he got a jump beggars.
My eye for Christ to return again, Carrying over the dtaoide steep, As is my body brightest heart, Without a fraud without perverse, For I put them down and resurrection, is to conform again to my side, heading the way that Calvairí, birthday true God.
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