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A spailpín a rún, dé do bheathasa chughainn
Nó cár bhainis an fómhar chomh luath so?
Dá mbeadh a fhios agamsa féin cá rabhais inné,
Ba ghairid liom do bhéal do phógadh.
A chailleach bhuí chrón, níor mhilis liom do phóg,
Ní ghlacfainn céad bó mar spré leat,
Mar go mb’fhearr liomsa póg ó chailín beag óg
Ná a bhfuil agat ar bhord an tsléibhe amuigh.
A spailpín a stór, fan socair go fóill,
Go bhfaigheadsa mo chaidhp is mo chlóca,
Mo bhróga sál-bata is búclaí an fhaisin
Is go deimhin duit go mbogfad an ród leat,
Ó, raghainn leat go Caiseal is go Cluain geal Meala,
Nó go Carraig na Siúire thar m’eolas,
Is go bráth a fhad ’s a mhairfead, ní thriallfad abhaile,
Is cá cuma cé a bhainfidh an eorna.
A bhuachaillí crua, gearraigí go luath,
Is cuirigí bhur gcúnamh le chéile,
Chun go mbainimis dúiseacht as bodaigh an phlúir
Is go rachaimid dár ndúthaigh féinig,
Sé a chloisim á rá ná seasóidh mé an lá
Leis na bodaigh atá lán de phónairí,
Ní acusan atá a fhios ach aige Rí Geal na nGrást
’S go dtabhra Dia slán ón bhfómhar sinn.
A laborer secret, dual for bheathasa to us
Or where did the wedding as soon as this autumn?
Had my own know how were you yesterday,
I was brief your mouth for kissing.
Chron yellow hag, I never kissed sweet,
Not a hundred cows as dowry would accept you,
As I prefer a kiss from a young little girl
Do you have a board outside the mountain.
A laborer dear, stay calm yet
To get that my cap and my cloak,
My shoes heel-stick the fashion buckles
You are indeed the roadway mbogfad you,
Oh, you go, that Cluain bright Cashel Mall,
Carrick or beyond my knowledge,
It is for ever as long as mhairfead, thriallfad not home,
Whoever is how will the barley.
A hard boys, Cut soon,
Put your assistance is together,
For that we anticipate waking up from the flour bodaigh
And that takes us to our District, totally alone,
I hear it being said than the day I shall stand
With the bodaigh full of beans,
Not only by those who know him King Clear the Grace
And God dtabhra us survive the autumn.