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Tráthnóinín deireanach Dé Luain agus é ag báisteach, Sea casadh tigh Sheáin mé agus shuigh mé síos, Nuair a dhearc mé an ainnir sa gclúid taobh thall dhíom, Ba dheas é a gáire is a leagan súl.
Bhí a grua trí lasadh ar nós an chrainnín caorthainn, ’S ba ghile míne í ná an eala ar snámh, ’S nuair a fuair mé an seanchas de cé dar díobh í Gur le Frainc Conaola an cailín breá.
De réir mo bharúl’ mar bhí sí tóigthe, Mar fuair sí eolas ar leabhar ’s ar pheann, Bhí an máistir scoile aici sa teach dhá treorú, Agus neart den ór buí go fairsing ann.
Is deas an teach é siúd tigh Frainc Conaola, Ó, deir an mhuintir atá ag tarraingt ann, Tá fuisce fairsing ann agus tá puins dhá roinnt ann, Agus bia gan chuntas ag fear le fáil.
Is maith an bhean í siúd ag Frainc Conaola, Sí scoth ár sinsear í dá bhfuil san áit, Mar sí nár chorraigh ariamh ’s nár athraigh a hintinn, ’S nach ndéanfadh choíchin ach le Rí na nGrást.
Cá bhfuil trua in Éirinn í bheith ar thamhnach sléibhe, Gan í bheith gléasta i síoda bán, Tráth a scalann an ghrian ar maidin gach aon taobh di, ’S go gcailltear na céadta san áit le grá.
Nach mór i gceist acu anois í Véineas, Ó shiúil sí Éirinn ’s nár mhór é a cáil, Ach bhuail Nóra amach í le scoil is le Béarla, Is thug sí an sway léi as gach uile cheard.
Mo léan, a stóirín, gan mé chomh hóg leat, Agus beagán óir agam le fáil, Bhuailfinn cnoic agus ghreadfainn bóithre, Agus chuirfinn i mo phóca iad le haghaidh mo Nóra Bhán.
Tá an flít ar farraige, tá siad i gcónaí ag seoladh, ’S ta an t-ádh go deo deo ar Nóra Bhán, Ach anois tá tú ag imeacht uaim agus beannacht Dé leat, ’S go dtuga Dia slán thú as gach uile cheard.
Tráthnóinín last Monday and it rained, Yes I met Jack's house and I sat down, When I saw the maiden in gclúid beyond in me, would like to laugh a glance.
Her cheeks blush like through the roaring chrainnín, and finer was brighter than the swan floating, and when I got the feel of folklore of which is That a girl Conaola love Frank.
By my bharúl 'tóigthe as she was, as she had received information on the book and a pen, was the school master in the house two leading her, and plenty of abundant yellow gold.
The house is nice those Conaola Frank house, Oh, the family says pulling there is extensive whiskey and some puins two there, and without food for a man to account.
Like the lady who by Frank Conaola, s our ancestors class the place, as she had not stirred ever and did not change her mind, and would not choíchin but the God of Grace.
Where is compassion in Ireland have a mountain Thamhnach, Without her being dressed in white silk, Time to deprive the morning sun on each side of her, and the loss of hundreds in the place of love.
They plan must now be Venus, Ó she walked Ireland and which must be known, But Nora hit it off with the English school, is she gave the sway her from every craft.
Alas, my darling, I'm not as young as you, and I found a little gold, Bhuailfinn ghreadfainn hills and roads, and would put them in my pocket for my Nora White.
The fleet at sea, they are always at the address, and the lucky forever forever Nora White, But now you're leaving me and God blessing you, and that you survived May God for all craft.
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