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Tá mo ghrá-sa pósta is níl stór agam le fáil ’na déidh A thógfadh an brón go mór domh dólás is tuirse croí, Is deise liom do chom ná na seoide, nó is tú bhreoigh is a mhearaigh mé, Is gur thiar i mBaile Uí Dhomhnaill gan bhrón a chodlaíos grá mo chroí.
A vailintín, ná feall orm is go bhfuil geall agam ar mhnaoi mar thú, Nó is duit a thug mé síorghrá gan amhras as radharc mo shúl, Is é do chúlsa a bhí fite ina thrillsí ler chaill mé an codladh ciúin, Is é mo bhrón mo léan is m’angadh gan mé i gcleamhnas le bláth na n-úll.
Mharbh tú uilig go léir agus mhéadaigh tú dhá dtrian mo bhrón, Ag smaointiú ar do mhéin mhaith is ar do bhéilín na bhfocal ciúin, Ach anois atá mé réidh leat is go ndéantar domh cónair chaol, Is ina dhiaidh sin go bhfásaidh féar glas fríd cheartlár mo chroí aníos.
A Mhuire is a Rí, cérbh ionadh domh dá n-íosfainn barr an fhéir, Nó mo chur i reilig sínte fán mhnaoi óig ab áin liom féin, Mura dtagadh ach séideán gaoithe sa taoibh a mbíonn grá mo chléibh, Ó, ní bhfaighinnse sláinte míosa gan mo chroí istigh a bheith fáiscthe léi.
A ansacht, cérbh ansa duit bean eile agat ná mé? Is gur tú an planda deas a shantaigh mé i dtoiseach mo shaoil, Thug mé gealltanas duit gan amhras mar bhí mé óg gan chéill, ’S focal cainte nach raibh sa cheann údaí a mholfadh duit ach mé.
Dá mba dúch uilig an fharraige is an talamh a bheith ina pháipéar bhán, Sléibhte fada geala is na healaíocha uilig ag snámh, Cléirigh Éireann is Alban, Sasain an Fhrainc is an Spáinn, Geanúlacht mo chailín deas go dearfa níorbh fhéidir a fháil.
My love-in married there treasure I found 'the déidh would lift the sorrow that must me sorrow is tired heart, is nearer to your waist than the valuables, or you bhreoigh as drove me, is that behind Town O'Donnell without sorrow my heart love sleeping.
A valentine, or betrayed me is that I bet a woman like you, Or you I gave síorghrá undoubtedly out of sight of my eyes, is to chúlsa was woven thrillsí ler I lost sleep quietly, my sorrow my sorrow that I m'angadh without kinship with apple flower.
Dead you all all and increased you two-thirds of my grief, at thinking on your humor like most of your mouth the words silently, But now I'm ready you is that the beach path narrow, is later bhfásaidh green grass sorrow to pierce my heart up.
A Mary King, what surprised me their íosfainn top of the grass, Or me to the cemetery stretched under molested young women would be noble to myself, If had come but a gust of wind in the side that love of my heart, Oh, I received a health month without my heart being clasped her.
A ansacht, what love you another woman you than me? Is that you plant pretty unnatural I dimensional my life, I gave promise you without a doubt I was young senseless, and word speech was not the one Udai advised you but me.
If all the sea ink is ground to be a white paper, Mountains bright long as the healaíocha all swim, Clarke Ireland, Scotland, England France and Spain, Geanúlacht nice that my girlfriend could not get positive.
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