Amhrán an chait
Song catIrish
’Gus casadh isteach i mbaile mé i mbealach salach bóthair,
Beirim mo sheacht mallacht dó mar sin é a d’fhág gan bróig mé,
Ag spaisteoireacht trí gharrantaí is ag iompú clocha móra,
Ó d’éireodh grian ar maidin nó go dtéití faoi an tráthnóna.
Sular hordaíodh amach ag obair mé ar cheann tigh Johnny Bhreathnaigh,
Strompódh na fia dubha nuair a thosódh sé ag cur shneachta,
Siúd a d’airigh an torann, chuile fhear ina sheasamh ag slapáil,
Iad ag rith sna sciobóil ’s iad ag faire ar an nganger.
Ach má cuireadh amach na bleaisteannaí, nach ann a dearnadh an réabadh,
Crainnte a bhaint as talamh ’gus na ballaí ag gabháil sna spéartha,
Ach ní raibh a fhios ar dearnadh tada ann go dtí maidin lá arna mháireach,
Fuair muide an seanchat i mbarr an chrompáin, caillte.
Ó, cuireadh isteach ar bharra é is chuaigh seisear fear á iompar,
Ní chrochfaidís den talamh é dá bhfaighidís Éire bronnta,
Sé dúirt Lucil, ‘Fág an bealach, go gcrocfaidh muid trí seolta é.’
Ba í slabhra mór an ancaire a chuaigh timpeall ar a scornach.
Ó, caitheadh amach i bhfarraige é agus fágadh ar leath cuain é,
Sí taoille trá na maidne a thug siar ar Chora Uí Thuathail é,
Ach chuala mé an lá cheana agus creidim fhéin nach fíor é,
Go raibh sé srathraithe ag tarraingt fheamainne ag cailleachaí i gCill Éinne.
Ach bhain sé as sna bonnachaí go ndeachaigh sé go Luimneach,
Ar bhord an Yankee clipper a chuaigh go Meiriceá Dé hAoine,
Ach anois ó tá sé bailithe uainn ’gus mallacht na ndaoine air,
Súil le Dia ’s le Muire againn nach dtiocfaidh sé ar ais choíche.
English (machine translation)
And turns into a dirty way home I road
Beirim my seven cursed him so it left without me shoe,
Stroll through the turning gharrantaí large stones,
Since the success of the morning sun or the evening that people used to go under.
Before working stipulated in one house I watched Johnny,
Strompódh the black deer when it would begin taking snow,
Those who felt the noise, every man standing at lap s wishes,
Those running in the barns and watching the the Ganger.
But if out of bleaisteannaí was not there to have been made the rupture,
Trees from the ground and the walls engaged in the skies,
But did not know of anything that has been made to morrow morning,
We're seanchat found the top of the creek, lost.
Oh, a bar inserted is carrying six men went,
Chrochfaidís of land not receive it if awarded Ireland,
Lucil he said, 'out of the way, that we gcrocfaidh sent it through.'
It was great anchor chain went around her throat.
Oh, cast out to sea and left half harbor,
Tidal beach morning she gave previous O'Toole is Chora,
But I heard the other day and I believe that true self,
It was pulling seaweed srathraithe at cailleachaí in Kill Anybody.
But he graduated from the bonnachaí he went to Limerick,
On board the Yankee clipper went to America Friday
But now it is collected from us and the people curse him,
Hoping to God and to Mary we will not come back ever.
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