Báb na gcraobh

BAB of the branches
Home | Tags: Sean-Nós | Submitted by seanog
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English (machine translation)

Boy is yours before disappearing young as heather,
is attracted to pretty women spent the beginning of my life,
Without fear priest, the bishop or the Pope asleep,
But drinking and playing at the Bab clismirt the branches.

When I thought arises in person to the people that I was,
my back was priocaithe, triopaithe, combed, ready,
My charabhat red, my hat as the roof of the drops,
my leather boots to spread the dew to grass.

Most nice girl who enjoys the love to me,
is that I often to the house of the pub tapping is selling dear,
That left the flame had my cheeks as shadow berries,
My hair glasadh as threascarfainn top grass.

Your own quick-in quick time to thabharainn jump,
and shot well to chaithinn ceaiste with vigor my arm,
I park the scythe as gentle as ghearrainn grass,
and plowing with horses not engraved as stór step.

What goodness in my achievement for me all my vigor,
I used to drink wearing that spent all my wealth,
left in yours to spend my wife without dowry,
should be noted is the reason it was too much butter heart of ghame.

When the City théinnse morning to ring the day,
when I would get the experience I'd say it had not costly,
When shuínn adjoining thereto stadainn not just selling a call,
is all the chuigeann shásaíodh 'is the adjoining that I fhaightí.

Mbarrchuigeann Ciach is the best to way to burned my heart,
She left without those I fast, without vitality, without meaning,
Now that I am past my pockets without money nothing,
God must not poor soul without storey my way.

Now that I am past my wise old man, gray,
is to putt cross my principal I am drawing my turn,
would obtain would thaithíodh few glass as me to find ever,
fact after National consumption, for thabharfainnse fiaidh course.

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