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This is a traditional Irish song arranged by Michael McGlynn and John McGlynn. It appears on Anúna’s eighth album Cynara, released in 2000.
The origin of the slow air is quite disputed. Some say it was written in the early 1800s by Robert Tanahill of Paisley, Scotland. However, the use of the word “buachaill” as “young man” in Irish suggests that this song may be Irish in origin, since in Scottish Gaelic the word means “shepherd”.
“At first glance, it would seem to be a bragart’s song and rather insulting to the poor girl to whom it is sung. However, if you consider all the attributes claimed by the man in the song to actually be the exact opposites of his actual place in life, then you can see how ‘tongue-in-cheek’, flirtatious and teasing the song really is!”
Buachaill ón Éirne mé 'S bhréagfainn féin cailín deas óg Ní iarrfainn bó spré léithe Tá mé féin saibhir go leor 'S liom Corcaigh 'a mhéid é Dhá thaobh a' ghleanna 's Tír Eoghain 'S mura n-athraí mé béasaí 'S mé n' t-oidhr' ar Chontae Mhaigh Eo
Rachaidh mé 'márach A dhéanamh leanna fán choill Gan choite gan bád Gan gráinnín brach' ar bith liom Ach duilliúr na gcraobh Mar éideadh leapa os mo chionn 'S óró sheacht mh'anam déag thú 'S tú 'féachaint orm anall
Buachailleacht bó, mo leo Nár chleacht mise ariamh Ach ag imirt 's ag 'ol 'S le hógmhná deasa fá shliabh Má chaill mé mo stór ní móide Gur chaill mé mo chiall A's ní mó liom do phóg ná'n bhróg Atá'r caitheamh le bliain
A chuisle 's a stór Ná pós an seanduine liath Ach pós a' fear óg, mo leo Mur' maire sé ach bliain Nó beidh tú go fóill Gan ó nó mac os do chionn A shilfeadh a'n deor Tráthnóna nó'r maidin go trom
I'm a boy from Ireland And I could charm a nice young girl I would not ask for her wealth As I am rich enough myself I own a good part of Cork Two sides of the glen in Tir Eoghain And not to repeat myself I'm the heir of County Mayo
I will go tomorrow To make ale in the wood Without a cot, without a boat Without a pinch of gruel with me But leaves of the branches As bedclothes over my head And think well done for you As you watch me from over there
A cowherd, my pet I've never been accustomed to be Instead of playing and drinking With the nice young women on the mountainside If I lost my riches I probably didn't lose my senses And your kiss is no more to me Now than a shoe worn for a year
My darling and my love Don't marry the gray old man But marry a young man, my pet If he only lives but a year Or you will be Without a descendant to succeed you And you'd shed sorrowful tears From morning 'til night
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