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Thug mé an ruaig ó Thobar Mhic an Duain agus chugat anuas le fána, Ó Chondae na Mí go Loch Dearg na Naomh agus chugat aníos Cruach Phádraig, ’S ar shiúil mé go fóill níor chuala mé aon cheol ar orgán, fliúit ná cláirseach, Mar a bhí ag an lón i dteach pobail Mhaigh Eo ag sagart na cúile báine.
Má théann tú go deo go Condae Mhaigh Eo, cuir tuairisc ar fhear de Sheoigheach, Agus gheobhaidh tú é ag teacht chugat sa ród, mar bheadh aingeal as ríocht na glóire, Téirigh ar do ghlúine agus aithris dó do rún gur peacach tú a ghluais i ngach ceard, Is ar uair ár mbáis sna flaithis go bhfágha ó shagart na cúile báine.
Éirigí suas go dtéimid chun siúil go bhfaighimid sagart na cúile báine, A d’imigh uainn aréir is nach bhfillfidh go héag mar tá sé i Loch Éirne báite, Éirígí suas go dtéimid chun siúil go bhfaighimid siúd ón bPápa, Is go bhfaighimid léas ar theach pobail Mhaigh Eo ó shagart na cúile báine.
Tá Condae Mhaigh Eo faoi leatrom go deo ó cailleadh an t-aonmhac Seoighe, Is go gcuirfeadh sé bród ar aon duine beo a d’fheicfeadh é san éadach Dé Domhnaigh, Chuirfeadh sé séala ort ag dul ins an gcré agus gheobhaidh sé na grásta ó Chríost, Agus chuirfeadh sé ar an eolas an té nach mbeadh cóir agus mhúinfeadh sé an treoir dhóibh díreach.
Is níorbh ionadh liom féin dá lasfadh an t-aer is na réalta chomh dubh le hairní, An dealramh ón ngréin is ón ngealach í féin ó cailleadh ceann seasta na háite, Paidir is cré, is an dá aspal déag, is in onóir do Rí na Glóire, Gan muid a chur sa gcré nó go mínítear an scéal faoi shagart na cúile báine.
I gave the run from the Well Son of Woodstock and send you down the slope, From County Meath to Loch Derg of the Saints and up Croagh Patrick, And I walked in I did not hear any music for organ, flute or harp, As the lunch was in the church of Mayo priest of fair hair.
If you ever go to County Mayo, add a man of the Joyce Country, and you get to join you in the roadway, as an angel from the kingdom of glory, Téirigh on your knees and recite it to a resolution that sinner you moved in every part, is an hour of our death in the heavens that priest of obtaining from the fair hair.
Rise up and set out walking to find the priest of fair hair, who left us last night and will not return to his death as he is submerged in Lough Erne, Rise up and set out walking to get that from the Pope, is to get a lease on a house Mayo priest community of fair hair.
County Mayo is oppressed lost forever from the only son Joyce, is that pride would anyone live to see him in cloth Sunday, would you go seal in the clay and the grace he received from Christ, and it would inform the person would not be fair and it would teach them just the guide.
Is not surprised me if would light the air and stars as black as sloes, the shining of the sun is from the moon itself from loss of fixed local, Prayer is clay, that the twelve apostles, is in honor of King Glory, No we put in the clay that explains the story of a priest of the fair hair.
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