Unlike to the mountain town behind me,
is, God, let me repeat it,
No I in grand houses' have been on the side of the road,
I see I have no cows, no sheep,
I would not be your pen now coming Sunday,
would the mass for me and my people,
had me down from Lough Erne Ireland,
that my favorite Teelin live.

A Bride White, darling, take courage too big,
is not cluintear more you are lamenting, '
And that's not the world if you seen improvement
might not be ours in the town yonder where we,
sheep and goats, horses and cows
and do we turn grass interests them,
not very nice this place is a result of grain,
and the salmon on the river by jumping.

The sheep here without so, crupán the cows,
and disease of the goats in the haltaibh,
increases my grief, this is only turf,
And The dwarf black nor áirímse as the grass is,
the amount of salmon and fish swim basin Teelin never
And they tar resilience under the garden,
I would never have my eye about fatigue as a thought,
Since I became your gclúid ugly.

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