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Chuir mise mo sheanduine isteach ins an choirneál, A ól bainne ramhair is a dh’ithe aráin eorna, Dá gcuirfeadh sé a cheann amach bhainfinn an tsrón de, Agus d’fhágfainn an chuid eile ag na cailíní óga.
Curfá: Órú, a sheanduine, a sheanduine dhóite, Órú, a sheanduine, is mairg a phós tú, Órú, a sheanduine, a sheanduine dhóite, Luigh ar do leabaidh agus codlaigh do dhóthain.
Chuir mise mo sheanduine go sráid Bhaile an Róba, Cleite ina hata agus búclaí ina bhróga, Bhí triúr á mhealladh is bhí ceathrar á phógadh, Is chuala mé i nGaillimh gur imigh sé leofa.
Curfá
Dá mbeadh a fhios ag mo sheanduine, ó, mar a bímse, Ag ól is ag imirt le hógfhir na tíre, Le héirí na gealaí go mbrisfeadh sé a phíopa, Agus bhuailfeadh sé faic dena bhuig ins an ghríosaigh.
Dá bhfaigheadh mo sheanduine an ní a ba chóir dó, Greamanna ime agus greamanna feola, Íochtar na cuinneoige is preataí rósta, Bhainfeadh sé gliogar as na cailíní óga.
Dá bhfeicfeá mo sheanduine ar uair an mheán oíche, A chois ar an bhac aige is é ag deargadh a phíopa, Gur cosúil le slat mara a dhá lorga chaola, Is mura ndéanfadh sé ansin é, ní dhéanfadh sé choíche é.
Dá bhfaighinnse mo sheanduine báite i bpoll móineadh, Cois a bheith briste is a lorga leonta, Bhéarfainn ’na bhaile é agus shínfinn faoi chlár é, Agus shiúlfainn amach leis na buachaillí óga.
I put my old man into the corner, A drinking milk fire with sour barley bread, If he be one in the nose, and such a thing in the rest of the young girls.
Chorus : Oru, that old man, that old man burnt, ORU, that old man, you are never married, ORU, that old man, that old man burnt, Lie on your bed and codlaigh enough.
I put my old man that street Ballinrobe, a feather in his hat and buckles in his shoes, was attracting three four were kissing is, is I heard that he went leofa Galway.
Chorus
Had to know my old man, since, as bímse, Drinking hógfhir is playing with the country, With rising of the moon that he broke his pipe, and it beats in the contents DENA bhuig urged.
If my old man got the thing he should, Bites bites butter and meat, Lower churn and roast potatoes were, would rattle off six young girls.
If you saw my old man at midnight, A also has the barrier is a pipe redness, That like a sea rod to two narrow shafts, is not then he would, would not it never is.
I could have my old man drowned in a hole móineadh, Cois be broken as stem wounded, I'd give 'would stretch the home and program it, and walk out with the young boys.
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