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Nuair a bhí mise óg, ba deas is ba dóighiúilAn scafaire stócaigh mé i súil na mban óg, Bhínn á mealladh is á bpógadh is shiúlfainn an ród leo, ’S bhínn carthanach cóir leo gan mhairg gan bhrón; Bhíodh rosca gach bruinnille ag lasadh le loinnir, ’S gach dealramh níos glinne le lúcháire romham, ’S mo ghuthsa gur bhinne leo a chluinstin sa chruinniú Ná an píobaire ag seinm ó mhaidin go nóin.
Curfá: Och och ar an lá sin, nárbh é an bhain an bláth domh, ’S a d’fhág mé mar atá mé i mo chréatúr gan dóigh, Sé a chloígh mé is a chráigh mé gur chaolaigh mo chnámha, ’S a d’fhág meath ar mo shláinte nach leigheastar go deo.
Is iomaí bean álainn ó Chorcaigh go Málainn A chaith seal ar láimh liom, mo chreach is mo léan, ’S mé ag imeacht gan ábhar arís is á bhfágáil Go cloíte lag cráite faoi leatrom leo féin; Thit mallacht ar gach duine acu i bhfíormhullaigh an chinn orm, D’imigh mo bhláth is níor fhan ribe ar mo mhaol, Ach mo sheanbhlagad feannta le síon is le haimsir, I mo chréatúr ag drandán fá bhuaireamh an tsaoil.
Curfá
Ach anois iarraim pardún go léir ar na stáidmhná A bhí cineálta cairdeach liom lá breá den tsaol, Nó táthar ag rá liom gur damnaithe atá mé, ’S nach dual domh go brách fáil go flaithis na naomh; Ach go n-admhaímse do Dhia go mb’fhearr liom go síoraí A bheith in ifreann na bpian i measc chairde mo chléibh, Ná bheith i bhflaithis in airde i measc thúitíní cráifeach Nach dtuigfeadh an cás a d’fhág mise faoi léan.
When I was young, it was nice was likely the scafaire lads I hope the young ladies, I used to be attracted is being bpógadh is walk the road with them, and I'd be charitable treated them indifferently without sorrow; used ROSCA all bruinnille lighting with gleam, and all seemed more vibrant with joy before me, and my Voice to hear that they barge in meeting Do piper playing from morning to noon.
Chorus: Och och of the day, this is not the flower were me, and I left as I do without creature, He that I followed as I broke my bones narrowing, and left decline my life forever remedied.
Many beautiful woman from Cork to Malin To cast a spell over me, my ruin my sorrow, and I'm leaving without material again being left In exhausted weak plagued by discrimination alone; fell curse on all of them in bhfíormhullaigh the head I, went my flower hair that remained on my blunt, But my sheanbhlagad skinned with the weather as weather, think drandán creature at all under concern.
Chorus
But now I ask pardon of all the stáidmhná A was kind Cardiac me along time domains, Or are telling me that damn am I, and not natural for me ever getting to Heaven the saints; but that I acknowledge to God that mb 'I prefer eternal being in hell of pain among friends of my heart, not be in heaven in height among religious thúitíní not understand the situation I left grieving.
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