An draighneán donn
BlackthornIrish
English (machine translation)
And think to themselves first woman that I when I drink beer,
and two-thirds goes down in me when I think of your conversation,
snow is blown two on Mount O'Flynn constant,
and that my love-in as a flower of their sloes on the blackthorn.
And secure the future of the town is on the side opposite yon,
as there's my drawing early and slowly,
not so many complex and lane crooked path,
Which is between me and that my darling home there.
If I were in my boatmen, not as nice as the sea shnámhfainn back,
if I were in m'fhaoileán, not nice to eventually become the top of the waves,
If I escape with your dhéinse is your attraction to me,
and the time Can I not be beguiled my dear I do not the goal.
The senseless man would aspire to the fence is high,
a fence tiny on either side of him to lay his hand,
While high the rowan tree it is bitter from the top,
is to grow berries and flower juice branches of the lowest trees flower.
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