An Buachaillín Múinte
The Well-mannered BoyIrish
’S a bhuachaillín mhúinte, céad faraor cráite
Go dtug mé grá dhuit i dtús mo shaoil,
’S shiúlfainn Éirinn ’gus thart Cruach Phádraig
’S do ghrá ní thabharfainn d’aon fhear sa tír.
Bhí do dhá shúil thaitneamhach ’gus do bhéal ag gáirí
’Gus dath an óir bhuí ar ghruaig do chinn,
A ghrua ba deirge ná an rós sa ngairdín,
A mhíle grá bán, is tú a bhris mo chroí.
’Gus bheirim mo mhallacht don arm Gallda
Mar ar bhain mo ghrá díom i dtús mo shaoil,
’Gus a liachtaí lá breá agus oíche airneáin
A chaith mé i ngrá leat ar an mBóthar Buí.
Dhá dtagfadh sé sa saol go mbeinn leat pósta
Mura mairfinn beo leat ach aon bhliain amháin,
Bheinn i gcónaí ag smaoineamh ar do bhrollach síodúil,
’S mo chroí dhá insint nach bhfuil maith dhom ann.
Nach trua mo scéalsa ag gol i do dhéidhse,
’S mo chroí dhá réabadh i mo cheartlár,
Tá deireadh mo chainte le do bhéilín ráite,
A Rí na nGrásta, nár mhór an feall.
Nach trua nach bhféadfainn do chás a réiteach,
’S an brat trom céadach a bhaint de do chroí,
Ach ag silt na ndeora os cionn do chónra,
Céad faraor dóite is thú go domhain i gcill.
English (machine translation)
Oh my well-mannered boy, my heart breaks
So I fell for you in the beginning of my life,
and would walk around Ireland and Croagh Patrick
And I would not love any man in the country.
Was pleasant to eyes and mouth laughing
and yellow gold color of the hair of your head,
His cheek was redder than a rose in the garden,
A thousand white love, that you broke my heart.
And I give my curse the English army
as involving me in my first love of my life,
and a fine day and night liachtaí sociable
A I love you spent on the Yellow Road.
Two dtagfadh it in life you I would be married
If you live survived only one year,
I would always think of your chest silky,
and my heart are two sides is not good for me there.
Not pity my scéalsa cry in your dhéidhse,
and my heart in my cheartlár two rupture,
is the end of my conversation with your lips said,
King of grace, not a shame.
Not pity your case could not be resolved,
and the heavy blanket céadach off your heart,
But the tears silt over your coffin,
First sorrows that you burned deep in a cell.
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