Succeeded in sitting up, a young boy,
and bring you the best of pounds at first,
But téirigh 'un weir and replicate to mourn,
and bring home, she Mary Young Tadhg.

And Mary, as you say, you are the love of my heart,
You are the phlándóg nicest and most beautiful about life,
devil bracket fence than toime not walked in behind,
Of eyes that would give tuineadh me, yes rejection I.

When Mary éiríonns high in the mountain,
As the moon íslíonns ardaíonns yes to the sun,
is a delightful honey appetites fog that eventually faces,
is a fragrant apples on masts and are inclined to nostalgia.

I swear a great woman to get two thousand pounds,
Top mountain of loilíochaí and be in grass,
Herd beautiful horses and economies accordingly,
But Mary she and I get my discretion without dowry.

Not pity sharp without yours is the best woman I care about life,
in the summit Valley nEang or Valley Rain God,
My two hands to be under and beyond to me that I be kissing her mouth,
And the night be long I no eleventh week.

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