Amhrán na speile

Song of the Scythe
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English (machine translation)

And God bless myself and my scythe as it is sharp
and she imposition of the grass in the garden,
Sedge out on the mountain, the place had never been cut
and that thriomódh the next day without any rain.

She imposition of green stones as smooth a potato tops
and the woods are closely together,
is not witch chreideoinn from the razor-how pike a sword
Do arrows are good people closer.

Shuímse When I start down the shelter and its attitude,
not she give me back the next solar wind,
is not it gcluinfeá quarter mile behind Steel Caoile,
When it fhógraínn over sea and overseas.

When spealsa would drink my tea, she would work herself
in gcoirnéil, in the mane of a mountain or in midfield,
and habits while she would cut, will remember not to mouth turns
That the light gone from the moon is from the star.

If I were my strong scythe and back ourselves,
not we involve assistance to the Spaniards,
and we would seriously undermine the static with strong claimhí guns
and we would all be drowning fleet.

That we would be sent back should be approached with the large multiples
Or that we would cut down the meat of its bones,
and we would kill Val Ford is the big tíoránaigh there
is no fee to participate at the prince or queen.

Is at home dhomsa filliúint my piece as I felt the heroic,
not my face would give Waterford harbor,
is that many men and women who come asking about my scythe
And I chroithfeadh top hand.

And I impart up in a large house parlor
Where will Pléaráca all kinds of music,
Oh, there will be a night we drink all kinds of music,
Of turning ever bhugle than harp.

Not write your own book and I will keep my mind it,
A will history of the world, full bag,
But now I am old that I suggest this world,
I do not like the legal consumption of the Spaniards .

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