Mailsín Chnoc an Easa Thoir

Easa Mailsín Hill East
Home | Tags: Sean-Nós | Submitted by seanog
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Irish

English (machine translation)

One day I was on the mountain
in the middle of the country was going,
Yeah I saw the front of the handful stáidbhean,
was most b'áille right track,
not depression as a 'look behind,
Burned flooded in pain
But not close my dying day by comment,
as my medicine from melting I find not.

Nice to shoe his feet,
A leg that need is not narrow,
He is my way that sweet kiss
Do honey two freezing wine,
sweeter voice to promote
not the music from her,
the maid young adhered to bhreoigh
is to crowds put in a cell.

Oh, my mhallachtsa that one,
a curse of God from which one
has no man in Ireland thóigfeadh dowry
With the final flour Lake Abhal,
For those herself my discretion,
Uilig over the world's finest women,
exceeded its beauty for all women
is Mhailsín, I escaped.

Of Family nDonncha it from Kesh,
the election of Families Gael
Young Woman mourned the breast smooth,
brightness is a pipe or the lime,
Her mali proofing sharp,
For their heart to cages,
have skin to promote a swan waves,
She fhága in melancholy for me.

I heard both say
At priests force rhyme
That ship and first son King James
is coming without falsehood forth,
On description beauty of the woman
A heard life reputation,
encapsulate the festival in vale mountain
no pity without me is there.

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