Doin it from didhdil from,
Love my heart for repression,
doin it from didhdil from,
'She dhaimseodh the port,
is he doin him from didhdil on.

Not nettle is yellow flower
Is my house growing place.

My heart is love your hand,
She would sail into the trees.

Not a trick many a twist
in your heart I did not get out.

My love is so nice
With caislín on a nest.

My store is also a fair
With the drinking glass house.

And I told my dear Pein
No lie grant makers.

And my heart is so heavy
With stone must be obtained in a clump.

And back and forth many
Had my love-in ever.

And my love is as cry
With Ceannabháin a fen.

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