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A Chamais na bhFoirnéis, mo chúig mhíle slán leat,Nach rídheas an áit thú teacht go Féile Muire Mhór, Ní chloisfeá scread mhaidne ann i mbéal leanbh ná páiste, ’S níor thug siad riamh masla d’aon duine beo.
’S tá chuile shaghas éan ann dhár fhás ariamh clúmhach air, An druideach an smóilín ’s an lon dubh ar an gcraobh, ’S ar maidin tá an fhuiseog ag síorsheinm cheoil ann, ’S go dtógfadh sí an ceo is an brón de do chroí.
’S céad slán leat, a Tower Chamais, nach mba rídheas an áit thú, D’fheicfinn as Gaillimh thú, agus barr Uachtar Ard, Camas, Glinn Chatha, Gleann Trasna is an Máimín, Gob na Trá Báine agus Cnoc Leitir Móir.
’S nuair a bhí mise i gCamas ba rídheacair mé a shásamh, Nó go siúlfainn na Státaí, thart síos agus suas, Ach anois tá mé i mBoston, is nach rídheas an áit é, Ach céad faraor géar gan mé i gCamas aríst.
’S dhá dtiocfadh an bás i mo choinne amáireach, D’iarrfainn spás air, seachtain nó dhó, Nó go dtéad go Camas ar cuairt ag mo chairde, Is go sínfead mo chnámha ar an nádúr go deo.
A Camas the furnace, my five thousand goodbye, Rídheas not where you come to Big Mary Festival, Not hear any scream Mhaidne countries child or children, And they did not insult anyone ever live.
And there is every kind of bird fluffy it never grew Dhar, The druideach the thrush and blackbird on a branch, And morning lark síorsheinm the musical, And that she would take the fog the sadness of your heart.
And the first goodbye, a Tower Camas, not the place you were rídheas, Galway you could see, and top Oughterard Camas, Glinn Chatha, is the Máimín Across Valley, Sound of White Beach and Hill Leitir Mor.
And when I was in gCamas I was particularly difficult to satisfy, Or I would walk the static, some down and up, But now I'm in Boston, is not where it rídheas, But first I sadly without gCamas again.
And two death will come against me tomorrow, I would call it space, a week or two, Camas ropes or visit my friends, Sínfead my bones that the nature forever.
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