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Ó, bliain is an lá amárach, sea d’fhágas an baile, Ag dul go hArd Pádraig, ag cur lasaí lem hata, Bhí buachaillí bána ann is rás acu ar eallaibh, Is mé go dubhach uaigneach i bPríosún Chluain Meala.
Tá mo shrian agus m’iallait ar iasacht le fada, Mo chamán ar fiaradh fé iarthar mo leapa, Mo liathróid dá bualadh ag buachaillí an ghleanna, Is mo mbuailfinn poc báire chomh hard leis na fearaibh.
A Chiarraígh, bídh ag guí liom, is bog binn liom bhur nglórtha, Is beag a shíleas-sa choíche ná fillfinnse beo oraibh, Go mbeidh ár dtrí gcinn-ne ar spící mar sheó acu, Fé shneachta na hoíche is gach síon eile á ngeobhaidh chugainn.
Go hUíbh Ráthach má théann tú, beir scéal go dtí mo mhuintir, Go bhfuilim daortha ar an bhfód so is ná fuil beo agam ach go hAoine; Bailígí gléas tórraimh agus comhra breá im thimpeall, Sin críoch ar Ó Dónaill, is go deo bíg’ ag guí leis.
Oh, years tomorrow, yes I left home, Going Patrick High, taking my hat laces, was there a race of white boys on eallaibh, I am lonely depression Prison Clonmel.
My restraint and lend long m'iallait, Mo west hurley on falsehood under my bed, my ball two boys meet at the valley, is my goal mbuailfinn puck up to the men of.
A Kerryman, food praying me, softly sweet to your voices, Little I thought-in never or fillfinnse alive city, That our three heads-ne on spikes as a show of them, Under snow the night as all the weather other ngeobhaidh us.
In hUíbh Ráthach if you go, bring a story to my family, that I am condemned to the spot this is is not a live but to Friday; Gather device funeral and coffin love butter around, That territory O'Donnell, is forever Big ' pray with.
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