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Is mó lá do chaitheas im óige thíos ar thaobh na trá, Ins an ghleann aoibhinn geal aerach mar a mbíodh na héanlaithe ag tabhairt ceoil go breá, Ar mo thaobh do bhí an fharraige fhairsing ag taitneamh le soilse an lae, Is na sléibhtibh ag éirí in airde mar a bheadh gardaí ó láimh gheal Dé.
’S nuair a thiteann an oíche gheal spéiriúil ’s an ré mar bhanríon go hard, Ó Chnoc Bréanainn go dtí Caisleán an Fheirtéaraigh ’s a soilse ag déanamh scáth, Ar na bóithre uaigneacha i m’aonar sea bhínnse ag cumadh rann, Im shuí ar bhinsín glas féarúil ’s mé ag éisteacht le glór na dtonn.
Is nach bhreá bheith ar bharr Shliabh an Fhiolair is gan fiolar le feiscint ann, Nó bheith sínte ar thaobh na gaoithe is mo chroíse do bheith ag corraí le greann, Dul amach sa naomhóg um thráthnóna ag luascadh thar dhroim na dtonn, Is na miontonnaíocha ag cogarnaigh fúinn is na hólaithe ag sleamhnú uainn.
Tá áiteanna eile in Éirinn níos breátha ach is mór a gcáil, Loch Léin agus oileáinín chraobhach ’s an Éirne rómholta i stair, Ach b’fhearr liomsa do bheith ag féachaint ar Mhárthain in airde i measc na mbeann, Ar chnoc Leataoibh ’s ar an bhfraoch glas mar do chaitheas mo shaol ins an ghleann.
Is mo shlán chun Gleann aoibhinn an mháma, go brách beidh do chuimhne liom, Ó mar n’fheadarsa fós cad ’tá in ann dom, níl fhios agam ab é an t-ádh nó an brón, Ach pé acu geal nó a mhalairt mo ré-sa, pé acu bocht nó saibhir í mo shaol, Beidh mo chroí agus mo chuimhne go láidir i measc mo mhuintir féin.
Most days I spent my youth below on the beach, In the valley delightful bright and airy as a former poultry bringing music to love, on my side was the sea extensive shining lights of the day, is the sléibhtibh becoming up like a bright hand guards from God.
And when the night falls and the duration of bright cheerful as queen high, From Mount Brandon to the Fheirtéaraigh Castle and doing shadow lights, On the lonely road alone composing verse bhínnse yes, Im sitting on green bhinsín manly and I listen to the voice of the waves.
That love being on top of Mount Fhiolair is without fiolar seen there, Or stretched on the wind my heart to be stirring with comedy, Going out in naomhóg evening by swinging over a consequence of the waves, is the miontonnaíocha at most of us cogarnaigh hólaithe slipping away.
Other parts of Ireland are fine but large capacity, Leane and an island and the Erne rómholta branches in history, But I'd prefer to have a look at Márthain up among the giant, on a hill and heather Leataoibh green to spent my life in the valley.
My sound is delightful to the Maam Valley, never I will be your memory, from as yet n'fheadarsa what 'is in there for me, I do not know it was fortunate or the sadness, But whether or not my bright even in, whether poor or rich my life, my heart and my memory strongly among my own people.
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