Before you edit: All changes are checked by a moderator before being published to the site and could take a few days.
An Irish Jacobite highwayman of the late 16th and early 17th Century known as ‘Ned of the Hill’ not only was immortalised in song but also has quite a folk history.
‘Cé hé sin amuigh a bhfuil faobhar ar a ghuth Ag réabadh mo dhorais dúnta?’ “Mise Éamonn an Chnoic atá báite fuar fliuch Ó shíorshiúl sléibhte is gleannta.’ ‘A lao ghil ’s a chuid, céard a dhéanfainnse dhuit Mara gcuirfinn ort binn dhe mo ghúna, Tá púdar go tiubh á shíorshéideadh leat, Ó beidh muid araon múchta!’
‘Is fada mise amuigh faoi shneachta is faoi shioc, Ní raibh dánacht agam ar aon neach, Mo sheisreach gan scor, mo bhranar gan cur, Gan iad agam ar aon chor, Níl caraid agam, is danaid liom sin, A ghlacfadh mé moch nó déanach ’S caithfidh mé dhul thar farraigí soir, Ós ann nach bhfuil aon de mo ghaolta.’
Ó, a chumainn ’s a shearc, ó rachaidh mé seal Fó choilltí ag spealadh na drúchta Mar a bhfaighidh mé an bheach Nó an lon ar a nead, An fia is an poc ag búireach, Na héiníní binne ar ghéagíní ag seinm ’S an chuaichín ar bharr an iúir ghlais, Go brách brách ní thiocfaidh an bás inár ngaire Ó, cois na coille cumhra.
'Who is that out with the edge of his voice beating on my closed door?' "I am Ned of the hill, drowned, cold and wet From crossing mountains and valleys.' 'My young boy, my love, what should I do with thee If I could dress you in my clothes, The heavy snow would shield us both, From being discovered and extinguished!'
'Miss yours out about snow is frost, could not be free I no none, My sheisreach without ceasing, my fallow without, Without them I any event, not friends to me, that grieves me that would take me early or late and I must go over seas east, Since there is not any of my relatives. '
Oh, associations and trove, since I will turn Sub choilltí by depression of the dew as I get the bee Or the numbers of nests, the deer is the puck at búireach, The héiníní cliff on ghéagíní playing and the chuaichín on because the green yew, never ever shall not die in laughter Oh, along the fragrant wood.
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.