When I go to bed at night, I am by thinking of the fish,
when I rise in the morning, I give rúid to the gable,
are the birds taking pleasure I 'of sitting in the mouth of the hole
and the worm at the Tor Red taking back tharna herring.

I'm thinking of the grid is the boat that she is there,
I'm thinking on the oars as the stroke in the waves,
I'm thinking of the rain and strong was the wind,
and every time our I hung the LED she and a teilm over.

But nice to the slanntracha be lighting our shoes,
and two are in the world when congestion often than sell them,
but we need to catch the canal with them, good or bad time
Where are rejoices the merchant coming and we bottle of ale.

When I'm sitting along the tineadh, I am by thinking of the time
A was myself and my coracle little out on top of the waves,
and not between me and eternity but the cloth and delicate tummy
Having reserved wind and sea among birds of waves.

But now I'm older I become sick sick poor,
I do not ever expect to recuperate that I extended in the cell,
I swear to God the glory grace as I put in my time
on Cregg in the sea among giant birds.

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