English (machine translation)
From morning quiet of our arises
Out planted the woods,
hem hit the arrow I,
is my medicine was not available,
Or I saw the young woman mheidhreach
Under bank sceilpe draighne,
Oh, suddenly my heart with joy
But failed I get it.
It a pity I'm not in my thrush,
and that would continue ACROSS the road with you,
as you are the flower of youth
would lift up my heart,
as I would be playing music thee
from morning to evening,
That to propose sweet your speeches
I gave mórghean your wife.
Boy I've individually,
as I will not be much if I can,
Or I'll tramp the region,
from that country back,
from Cork to Howth,
a Dublin later,
Oh, go until Town Mountain
Or back to Ballina.
And I will if I can
In America in the beginning of the season,
Where is not my relatives
on one side or come before me,
And I return to Ireland
Or that sings the cuckoo in the winter there,
is that castle of my people,
is formed on the edge of the harbor.
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