Before you edit: All changes are checked by a moderator before being published to the site and could take a few days.
Nuair a éiríos féin ar maidin go moch I bhfad amach sa bhfómhar, Cé a chífinn chugam ach stór mo chroí Is d’fhéach sí féin go fónta, Mar do bhí sí siúd deas dearg is donn Is a leacainn mar na rósaí, Nuair a fháisceas í go dlúth lem chroí, Sé dúirt sí, ‘Cá mbíonn tú id chónaí?’
As I roamed out for to view the plains One summer’s morning early, Who should I spy but a pretty fair maid, And she dressed up so nately, Her cherry cheeks and ruby lips, Her eyes would dazzle the daisies, When I took this fair maid by the hand She said, ‘Young man, go aisy.’
‘Mar is treabhdóir mise go fónta ar mo cheird, Mar is maith atá a fhios ag am chomharsain, Is mó páirc riamh do threabhas-sa féin Gan mé bheith tinn ná leonta, Mar do bhainfinn féar in íochtar cnoic, Do dhéanfainn cruach nó stáicín, Do rincfinn ríl leat, a stór mo chroí, Ar bhruach na Carraige Báine.
‘I am a ploughboy, the seed for to sow, And that is well known to my neighbours, ’Tis many’s the field that I have ploughed And that without much labour, For I’d plough and sow, both reap and mow, And gather it into your garden, I’d sweep the floor and I’d dance with you On the banks of Carraige Báine.’
‘Do leathfainn fallaing duitse, a fhir óig, Mura mbeadh ann ach leithead cianóige Dá mbeadh fhios agam go mbeifeá liom, Gan dabht tú féin dob fhearr liom, Ó, gléasaigh suas, a óigfhir léan, Is gluais liom fhéin thar sáile, Is treabhfaimid na cuanta doimhne Ó bhruach na Carraige Báine.’
‘I would spread my mantle for you, young man, If ’twas only the breadth of a farthing, If I thought your mind was as good as your word, ’Tis you of course I’d rather, So wake arise, my labouring boy, And come with me in the morning, And we will plough the briny waves From the banks of Carraige Báine.’
When got up early this morning Far out in the autumn, Who chífinn me but, my heart is that she looked sound, as it was in those pretty red brown is a leacainn as the roses, when grips is close to my heart, He told her, 'Where do you live id?'
As I roamed out for to view the plains One summer's morning Early, Who shouldnt I spy BUT a pretty fair maid, And she Dressed up this nately, Her cherry cheeks and ruby lips, Her eyes Would dazzle the daisies, When I Took this watch maid by the hand She they, 'Young man, that Aisy.'
'As plowman I sound my craft, as is well know by the time neighbors, Most park ever threabhas-in self Without me being sick or wounded, as your would reap grass in the lower hills, For I would steel or Stack, Your reel rincfinn you, dear my heart, On the banks of Whiterock.
'In time ploughboy, the seed for to SOW, And That is well Known to my Neighbours, ' tis work schedule's the field That I have plowed And That without Much labor, For I'd plow and SOW, kiosk REAP and mow, And INTO it gather your garden, I'd sweep the floor and I'd dance with You On the banks of Whiterock. '
'Your leathfainn robe for you, a young man, if only the width cianóige Had I know that you are with me, undoubtedly you would prefer me, Oh, gléasaigh up, óigfhir sorrow, a glossary of my own abroad, is treabhfaimid the deepest harbors From the banks of Whiterock. '
'I Would Spread my mantle for you, young man, If I' Twas only the breadth of a Farthing, If I wasnt I thought from your mind off your good This word, 'tis are of course I'd rather, So wake ARISE, my labouring boy, And come with me in the morning, And we do will plow the briny waves From the banks of Whiterock. '
SongsInIrish.com is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com or amazon.co.uk.