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Aisling gheal do shlad trí mo néal mé ’S go rabhas-sa tréithlag seal im luí, ’S go rabhas i ngleann cois abhann im aonar, ’S go rabhas ag aeraíocht le grá mo chroí, Go raibh na camthaí Gall agus Gaelach Is claimhte géara ag uaisle an tsaoil, Ag breith barr áidh is á rá le chéile Go raibh clann an Fhaoitigh anois le fáil gan mhoill.
Ba ghearr a shamhail dhom gur dhearcas-sa Mary ’Gus gruaig a cinn léi go féar ag fás, A folt ag teacht mar na réaltainn Ag titim léise go barr a troighe, Ag siúl na drúchta de bharr an fhéir ghlais ’S is lúfar éadrom mar a shiúladh sí, A dá chíoch chruinne ar a hucht go néata, A grua mar chaortha, is ba gheal í a píb.
Do bheannaíos-sa do mo chuid i nGaolainn Is is modhúil ’s is maorga do fhreagair sí, ‘A phlúr na bhfear, mo shlad ná deinse Mar is maighdean mé nár tháinig d’aois, Dhá dtéadh sa ghreann dúinn clann a dhéanamh ’S go mbeifeá séantach ins an ghníomh, Gur gearr ón mbás mé, is go bhfágfainn Éire I mo ghóist im aonar bheinn romhat id shlí.’
Do leagas mo láimh uirthi go béasach Ó bhun a stays go dtí barr a troighe, Is in aghaidh gach stáir go ndeinfinn léi dhi Go bpógfainn a béilín tláth arís, Nuair a fuaireas-sa dhom gur ghéill sí Mo chroí do léim mar an éan ar chraoibh, Trí lár mo smaoinimh ach gur dhúisigh néal mé Is de chumha ina déidh siúd, ní mhairfead mí.
Bright dream to pillage through my cloud I And I was weak turn-in compatible butter, And I was in my own river valley, And I was at aeraíocht love my heart, Had the gall and Irish camthaí Gentlemen are sharp swords at all, At birth misfortune saying top together White's family had now found without delay.
Was similarly short-sees in me that Mary And to promote her hair grow grass, A hair coming as the réaltainn Rising to the top of his foot hers, Walking the dew caused the grass green Light and agile as she walked, A two round breasts neatly on her breast, His cheeks as chaortha, the pipes should be bright.
For bheannaíos-in for my part in nGaolainn It is a modest and dignified she replied, 'A flour men, my kills or deinse As I had not come virgin old, Two went in humor to make us children And you be in denouncing the act, Short lives that I, that leave a Ireland In my own butter ghóist id'd be way ahead. '
Leagas my hand to her politely From Stays pursuant to a foot to the top, All history is against her kinder to ndeinfinn Her mouth bpógfainn tláth that again, When I got in me-she had surrendered My heart to jump as the bird Championships, By the middle of my thought but I woke stunning Grief is a déidh of those, I will not months.
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