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Ó, céad slán do bhliain ’s an taca seo, nach deas mar a bhí mé gléasta, Bhí mé in ann a ghoil ’un cainte léithe i mBéarla agus i nGaeilge, Nó gur phós mé an chiomach mhallaithe mar bhí cúpla bó agus spré léithe, Is gur fhága sí fuar folamh mé is mo chraiceann gan aon léine.
D’éirigh mé ar maidin is nigh mé m’éadan is mo lámha, D’fhiafraigh mé den chailín deas an dtiocfadh sí ’un an bháid liom, Cheadaigh sise a Mamaí ach níor bhac sí lena father, Is céad faraor dóite deacrach nach sa talamh a chuaigh mé an lá siúd.
D’éirigh mise aríst agus rug mé ar mo láí, Ní raibh splanc ar an teallach ná falach ar na páistí, Ní hé sin fhéin a mharaigh mé ná a mhéadaigh uilig mo bhuaireamh, Ach mo leanbán ag screadach is an chiomach i dteach na comharsan.
Comhairle dhaoibhse, a bhuachaillí, an chuid agaibh atá gan phósadh, Ná fágaidh cailín deas ina ndiaidh mar gheall ar bheagán bólaigh, Mar b’fhearr dhaoibh bothán glan agaibh le theacht isteach tráthnóna Ná luaith bhuí na seachtaine dhá cur amach Dé Domhnaigh.
Dhá mbeadh ór buí agamsa agus airgead a bheith i mo phóca, Dhéanfainn cosán aicearra go doras theach mo stóirín, Mar shúil le Dia is go gcloisfinn torann binn a bróigín, ’S gur chaill mé codladh seachtaine is mé ag súil le blas a póigín.
Iarraimse ar Mhac Dara an lá amáireach go raibh ina ghála, ’S nár thé aon bhád ar farraige ach ar éigean go Doire Fhatharta, Mar fuair mé gloine fuisce ó bhean na gruaige báine, Is shíl mé go raibh mil uirthi nuair a chuaigh sí thrína lámha.
Mo mhallacht don phósadh nach mairg ariamh a dhein é, Mar is furasta duine a cheangal ach is deacair duine a scaoileadh, Nuair nach dtiocfadh sé de knack amach ar nós an bhó nó an chaora, An té nach dtaithneodh an bhean sa mbaile leis í a thiomáint ’un an aonaigh.
Oh, first secure your year and support this, not as nice as I was dressed, I was able wept 'un speech gray in English and Irish, Or that I married the chiomach react as a few cows and dispersion of gray, she fhága cold is that I empty my skin is no shirt.
I left in the morning I wash my hands m'éadan, I asked the nice girl she would 'un I boat, allowed to Mum but she said she did not impede his father, a hundred sorrows deacrach not burned in I approached the ground those days.
I was successful again and I grabbed my spade, did not flash on the fireplace than falach the children, is not that I killed myself or my concerns all increased, But my baby screaming as the home of a neighbor chiomach .
Dhaoibhse Council, to play the part of you who are unmarried, not fágaidh pretty girl behind because little smell, as you clean hut Rest preferably with arrival evening Do ash thanks two a week out on a Sunday.
I have two yellow gold and silver to be in my pocket, I would shortcut path that house door, my darling, As the eyes of God, to hear the sweet noise to Boots, and I lost sleep that week I expect to taste a little kiss.
Iarraimse Mac Second day tomorrow was a gale, and not tea boat on the sea but hardly Derry Fhatharta, as I got a glass of whiskey from a woman with fair hair, is thought that honey her when she went through his hands .
My curse for marriage not woe ever made ??by it, as easily people require but difficult one to release, When he became a knack out like a cow or a sheep, He who dtaithneodh the woman at home with her drive 'un stage.
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