An buachaill bánThe white boy
English (machine translation)
I brought the race to the summit of platforms
and the second race from the mountain again,
Trying to report the girl I left
and she did not die from me through my heart.
If I were in my boatmen, it was nice to shnámhfainn
From one corner and my heart is love,
Oh, I would run to the tonnes of white
is rising up to the bank thanks.
The slow early bet you gave me
not the grass grow through the ground up,
not the moon give light to Ireland
and would light the star, not during the night '.
Flute and organ was playing music there
and my pretty young girl walking of the house,
is cha iarfainn their wealth at the time of my death her
??But no one kissed other, my heart.
Oh, my shouldered hung to my ears
and I found out that me short of death,
and no two persons got my report
not been told, 'My thruaigh you, my white boy.'
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