Oh, I will quilt of my trousers
A remains a world of men,
is not I reach the beard this dhíomsa
That it grows year long,
Oh, I get out of the mountains
As giobach berries green,
Unless I man the thus
Oh, I will leave the world entirely.

Oh, success is put on your clothes
and Come with me to walk,
over to the Irish Bishops
That required me and you,
Oh, pursue me bread and tea to you,
Oh, beer like the Irish ale,
is you'll never of the days
that is perhaps our ship boat.

Oh, success is put on your clothes
and crapfaidh myself behind,
twenty milking cows and spreading to
the maiden 'is on the harbor,
Oh, they say she is friendly sinner
and that like Venus is,
But green the hills are not féarmhar
a fold myself again.

Not pity that I and my sweetheart
On top of the mountain outside,
Without anyone being in the vicinity
But snow two blow north,
Oh, would stretch down his right side
is I would not let a gaobhar cold,
and that I would kiss sweet his lips would
would hundreds asleep.

Since I joined my mother
is my bhalcaisí soaked,
'Oh, Oh, my pet,
Where were you swim today?'
'Oh, look at you, dear mother
As concerns this case you,
as a I went in danger of drowning
With Maureen far side of the stream. '

Oh, it is only a week since I got married
and more like it than a year, Round the world for sporting and unfortunately if I married ever, Oh, promised cattle enough for me and I did not but the cow and the calf, From, lost I calf in winter and spring the next cow.

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