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Maidin aoibhinn fhómharmhar ’s mé ag gabháilt an bóthar síos, Do chasadh cailín óg orm ’s í ag crú na bó cois claí, Ba ghile í ná sneachta ar mhórchnoic ’s bhí scáil na rós ’na gnaoi, Sé mo léan ná fuilimse pósta leat, a chailín óig mo chroí.
‘Is maith an t-am chun pósta é, a bhuachaill óig,’ dúirt sí, Sara dtiocfaidh a thuilleadh den bhfómhar orainn ’s go gcuirfeam an mhóin i gcrích, Seo liom go tigh an óil ’steach, is bí ar stól id shuí, Is glaoighse ar phuins do dhóthain, is ligse domsa díol.
‘Is dubhach an bhean go lá mé agus is cráite buartha bhíos, Gan dúil i sult ná i ngáire agam ná fós i mbéile bídh, Mo ghruaig liom síos ’na táthaibh is náid do réiteodh í, ’S cad a dhéanfainn féin, a mháithrín, gan raca breá mo chinn?’
‘Is a rúnaigh ná bíodh cás ort ’s ná cuir mairg ar do chroí, Gheobhairse an ród so amárach, is cuir céad fáilte roimhe, Socraigh cathaoir ard fé ar imeall nó i lár an tí, Is sciob a hata id láimh leat ’s gheobhair raca breá mo chinn.’
Do stadas féin ar feadh neomat ’s ag éisteacht leo do bhíos, Cois leataobh chlaí na teorann ’s mo raca im phóca thíos, Do thugas fia na feola, cé gur cráite a bhíos im chroí, Is gur mhaith an saol fadó é sara dtáinig an spórt chun cinn.
Ba mhaith an fear sa bhfómhar mé don té a bheadh gnó aige díom, Dhéanfainn cruach nó stáca is do thógfainn bearna claí, Do threabhfainn iomaire bhán duit ’s do chraithfinn an ghráin den síol, ’S do chaithfinn súiste thar mo láimh dheis, dá bhfaighinnse mo shásamh díol.
Morning delightful fhómharmhar and I him heading down the road, Your turn young girl me and she milked the cow ditches, was a darling than snow mhórchnoic and was a shadow of the rose 'the well pleased, He is my sorrow than fuilimse married you, young girl my heart.
'It is a good time to married, boy young,' she said, Sara becomes more of autumn us and gcuirfeam turf out, Here I to house the drinking agusteach, you'll be on stool id seated, is glaoighse on phuins enough, most ligse selling me.
'Depression is the woman that I day and tormented worried I was, Without desire for pleasure than in the shouts I do not still in meal food, my hair me down' the táthaibh is zero to prepare it, and what to do yourself, dear mother, without love rack my head? '
'Is rúnaigh do not feel and do not add woe your heart, Gheobhairse the road this tomorrow, is put first welcome Set high chair under the edge or in the middle of the house, is snatched his hat id beside you and you will get a rack love of my head. '
Your status yourself a moment and listen to the quick, Waterfront aside fence the border and my rack my pocket below, I turned deer meat, although tormented lad heart, is a good life in the past with before came the sport ahead.
Would the man in the autumn I the person to be of business from me, I would steel or wager is for would take gap fence, Your thrust ridge white you and your chraithfinn the grain of seed, And I would guess flail on my right hand, if I took my satisfying sale.
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