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In aisling dom féin aréir ’s mé im leabaidh trím shuan, Go rabhas-sa dá phósadh lem stór croí go hintinneach suairc, Bhí rince agus ceol go leor á spreagadh lem chluais, Agus céad giní óir am chóir lem chailín deas rua.
Is é Tiobraid Árann a d’fhágas ar maidean Dé Luain, ’S níor stádas den stáir sin go dtánas ’on Daingean ar cuairt, Cé a gheobhainn os cionn cláir ach mo ghrá agus í ag imirt ar scuaibh, ’S ar iompó an mháimh bhí an cíoná ag an gcailín deas rua.
Siúd ort, a Sheáin, ’s ní fhágam an baile go Luan, ’S go bhfuil mo chroí cráite, gan fáil agam ar toddy ná a luach, Is gurb é a deir na mná gurbh fhearr leo mé marbh san uaigh, Mura dtréigfead an clár, an chárt is an cailín deas rua.
Ní thréigfeadsa an clár, an chárt ná an cnagaire cruaidh, Ní thréigfead, ná Máire an bhean mhánla, is í ainnir na gcuach, Mar ar aonach an Mhárta thugas grá agus taitneamh dá grua, ’S a rún gheal mo chléibh, ná tréig mé mar gheall ar na buaibh.
Do chonacsa inné í in éadach siopa i bhfad uaim, Ba bhreá í ná Véineas an spéirbhean, is í ainnir na gcuach, Níl aon gheallúint sa tsaol ón spéir go dtí an dtalamh anuas, Nár thug sí dhom féin ’s tar éis sin d’imigh sí uaim.
Níl aon tslat ins an choill nach bhfuil snaidhm ina bhun nó ina bharr, Níl aon bhreac ins an linn nach n-éiríonn ar bharr uisce ag snámh, Níl aon tsagart sa ríocht nach n-éiríonn chun aifreann a rá, Ach ó d’imigh sí uaim, ní mór go maithim an lá.
In my dreams I own my bed last night and slumber trim, That I was-in his marriage my heart intentionally store chanting, had many dance and music inspired my ears, and gold guinea first time my girlfriend should pretty red.
Tipperary is a maidean I left on Monday, and not the status of that dtánas history 'on visiting Dingle, Who would get over programs but my love and her play scuaibh, and a switch of the claim was the girl offense pretty red.
Those of you, John, and fhágam home that Monday, and that my heart broken, without getting me a toddy or value, is that to say the women they prefer me dead in the grave, If dtréigfead the program, the daily is the nice girl red.
Not thréigfeadsa the program, the daily or the woodpecker hard, not desert you, nor Mary the wife gentle, is maid of a bundle, as a fair-March I gave love and enjoy both cheeks, and a secret bright my heart, not Drop I because the cows.
For chonacsa yesterday in cloth shop is far away, would not Venus is the maiden, the maiden is curly, no promise in this world from the sky down to the ground, has not given me her own and after that went I it.
No rod in the woods is not a knot rise or top, no trout in the pool does not become top water swim, no priest in the kingdom fails to say mass, But since passed she I have to forgive the day.
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