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This is a traditional Irish song arranged by Lasairfhíona Ní Chonaola. It appears on her debut album An Raicín Álainn, released in 2002.
Ó, éireoidh mé ar maidin In ainm an Domhnaigh Is rachaidh mé mo chónaí Ar chnocánín bán Ó déanfaidh mé teach ann Ar leataoibh an bhóthair I bhfogas don chóngar Abhus agus thall
San áit a mbheidh agam Cead bealaigh is bóthair Caidreamh lucht eolais, Fear loing agus báid Beidh scoil ag lucht ealaíon 'S ag ógánaigh óga Ar lorg an eolais Ag teacht ar mo shráid
'Sé iomrá na gcailleach Sna seandaoine críonna D'fhág mearbhall ar m'intinn Is néal i mo cheann A rá go raibh an Púca ann Ó aimsir na Díleann Go bhfaca na daoine é, Ach níl fhios cén t-am
Níorbh é sin a b'ait liomsa Ag teacht go ráithe an Gheimhridh Iad a bheith ag déanamh íospart Istigh ar mo shráid Go mbíonn sé ina chat Is na mhada san oíche Is nár thúsice ina Phúca é Ná ina sheanghearán bán
Dhá bhfaighfainnse capall Chomh maith leis an bPúca Bheadh m'anamsa lúfar Ag imeacht is a teacht Dhá mba thíos i gCeann Gaineamh A thógfadh sé a ualach Ó bheadh sé i gceann leathuair Ag binn Éamainn Uí Bhriain
Cuirfidh mé sconsa Le hiomaire an Líonáin Ní ligfidh mé aníos é Le fána an Toirc Mhóir Dhá n-ionsódh sé Caiseal Trí cheartlár na Maoine Anonn go tír caorach Nó anonn don tír ghlas
Ní ligfidh mé tharam Ar thalamh ná ar thoinn é 'S beidh aireachachas cruinn Agam roimhe sa ród Dhá gcastaí le Jeaic é, Fear maith atá sa tír seo Bhainfeadh sé píosa Dhá leiceann is dhá shrón
I'll get up in the morning In the name of Sunday And I will take up residence On the little fair hill Oh I will build a house there Beside the road At easy reach To all places
There I'll have the freedom Of the roads Where I will meet learned people Of ships and boats There will be a school for artists And for the young Seeking knowledge At my door
It is the talk of old women And wise old folk That has my mind confused And my head spinning Saying that the Pooka was there Since the time of the Flood That people saw him, But no one can tell when
It is not that I would want As winter approaches To have my front garden Turned upside down At night he is A cat or a dog And as soon as he is a Pooka He turns into an old white gelding
If I had a horse As fast as the Pooka My soul would be fast moving, Getting there and coming back If he loaded his cargo Way down at Ceann Gaineamh Oh he'd be at Eamonn O'Brien's gable Within the half-hour
I will raise a fence By Leenane's Ledge To stop him getting in By Torc Moore Slope If he approaches Cashel Through the center of Maoine Over to the sheepland Or over by the green pasture
I won't let him pass by me Over land or sea And I'll keep a close eye on him On the roadway If he happens on Jack, A man of renown He will surely put His nose out of joint
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