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Níl aon phort a chuala mé ar phíob Ó tháinig mé i méadaíocht ó linbh, Nach raibh liom ar bharr mo mhéire, Isteach an sliabh is ag gabháil ’na bhaile.
Curfá: Níl sé ’na lá, níl go fóill, Níl sé ’na oíche, ná baol ar mhaidin, Ó, níl sé ’na lá, is ní bheidh go fóill, Nach anois ar ball a d’éirigh an ghealach.
Ó, seo na mugaí, seo na jugaí, Seo an áit a bhfuil an leann, Is mura bhfuil an t-airgead in do phócaí Buail an bóthar is gabh ’na bhaile.
Curfá
Ó chuir mé fhéin mo lámh ’mo phóca Is d’iarr mé briseadh coróin ghairbh, Sé dúirt sí liom, ‘Suigh síos chun boird Is beimist ag ól anseo go maidin.’
Ó éirigh ’do shuí, a fhir an toighe, Cuir ort do bhríste agus do hata, Go gcoinní tú ceol leis an duine chóir, A bheas ag ól anseo go maidin.
Ná héirigh ’do shuí, a fhir an toighe, Ná cuir ort do bhríste ná do hata, Ná diabhal deoir a théid in do scóig Ná ní bheimist ag ól anseo go maidin.
Ó, tá na caoirigh ins na méilte, Is tá na huain ag ól an bhainne. Tá mo bhean fhéin ar fud na tíre, Is nach mithid domh éirí is a ghabháil ’na bhaile.
Is nach mór an croí a fuair Eamonn Creepy, Síneadh síos le Siobhán an Bhacaigh, D’éirigh Cathal as an ghríosaigh, ’S bhí sé ar iarraidh as sin go maidin.
Ar chuala sibhse maith na maoile Nó mar a chríochníonn sí a cuid bainne? Ochtar dragún, gasúr cíocrach, Bunadh an tí is péire cailleach.
Ó, thug mé fhéin mo mhaol chun aonaigh, Is d’imigh an t-aonach is díoladh an t-eallach, Tiocfaidh caill ar chailleachaí an toighe, Caillfear an dís is a gcuid leanbh.
Is dá gcasfaí orm cailín i dtom, Chuirfinn a cloigeann síos le malaidh, Chuirfinn taca lena droim, Is bheinn ag súgradh léi go maidin.
This is a tune I heard on pipes Since I came from a child grows up, not I was on top of my finger, Into the mountain engaged in his home.
Chorus : It 's the day, there still is not' the night, or nearly morning, Oh, it 's the day, it will not be yet, not now later turned the moon.
From the mugs, this is the jug, This is where the porter, is if the money in your pockets to hit the road and go 'home.
Chorus
Since I put my arm myself 'my pocket I asked a rough break crown, she to me,' Sit down at the table is beimist drinking here until morning. '
From success' to bed, man of the house, Put on your trousers and your hat, That appointments to the person you need music, I'll stay here drinking until morning.
Stay where 'your bed, man of the house, or put on your trousers or hat, or a devil in my tear in your neck Do not bheimist drinking here until morning.
Oh, the sheep are in the ground, is the lambs are drinking the milk. My wife is self nationwide, is that it is time for me becoming a catch in his home.
It is the heart that has found Eamonn Creepy, lie down with Susan Bush, successfully urged the Charles, and he was missing until morning.
Well ye heard the flatness Or as she completes her milk? Eight dragons, eager boy, Origin pair the witch house.
Oh, I gave myself to let my blunt, is left the fair sold the cattle, will miss chailleachaí of the house, will lose the pair that their baby.
If I met a girl in the bushes, I would put her head down malaidh, I would support a back, is that I would play with her ??in the morning.
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