Before you edit: All changes are checked by a moderator before being published to the site and could take a few days.
Ó, ní le mailís a chuaigh mé i bpríosún, Le gadaíocht chaorach ná míchliú mná, Ach braoinín fuisce a bhí in aice an tí agam, Is tháinig na peelers orm roimh an lá.
Lá ar hordaíodh síos mé le dhul sa bpríosún ’S trua nár síneadh mé ar chónra chláir, Bheinn ó thriobhlóid ’gus ó imní an tsaoil seo, Is níl le fáil againn ach aon bhás amháin.
A Shergeant Guairim, ná raibh bail ó Chríost ort, Nár ba fada go síntear thú ar chónra chláir, Mar is tú a chuir ticéad agam le dul sa bpríosún, San áit ar shíl mé nach mbeinn go brách.
Go dtaga galra ort le go seachnaí an saol thú, Easpaí gaoil ’gus easpaí brád, ’S a bhfuil de dheabhail in ifreann ’s ar leac na Corónach Go raibh do chumhdach ar uair do bháis.
Muise, d’fhaighinn unsa sambó ann ar mo dhinneár, ’S ag a naoi a chlog aon ghreim amháin, Braoinín bainne a raibh dath an fhéir air, ’S é sin fhéin ba é an déirc é a fháil.
Bhíodh féar is fiche againn amach in éineacht, ’S bhíodh an turnkey amach romhainn sa bpáirc, Ní raibh aon tsamhail againn ach mar a bheadh caoirigh, A bheadh ag dul thart timpeall leis an ngalra cam.
Nach ait na smaointe a bhí ag rith thrí m’intinn, Nach raibh aon imní ar mo chlann, Ní hé sin don tseanbhean bhocht a raibh mé ag saothrú an tsaoil di, Bhí sí ag caoineadh dhá mbeadh maith dhi ann.
Bearradh na whiskers dhíom le siosúr cruach, Is bearradh an méid gruaige a bhí ar mo cheann, Gléasadh suas mé le culaith shuarach, Leathstoca dubh ’s an ceann eile bán.
Níl fear sa bparáiste dhá leithneacht droim dhe, Dhá gcaithfeadh mí ann nár chaol é a chnáimh, Níl aon mhaith i seanchas ná a bheith ag cur síos air, Ach siúd é an príosún ’s ná téigí ann.
Oh, not with malice that I went to prison, Míchliú sheep theft than women, But whiskey braoinín was near my house, Peelers is I came the day before.
Stipulated day I went down in prison And I pity coffin is not extended programs, I would thriobhlóid and concerns of this world, We found there is only one death.
A S h ergeant Guairim, did not condition you from Christ, Did not you been long extended a program coffin, As you sent me a ticket to go in prison, Where I thought I would not be forever.
Let your seachnaí infections you to the life you, Deficiencies and inadequacies relative busts, And is of dheabhail in hell and sill Crown That was a time to cover your death.
Well, I would get there ounces Sambo my dinner, And at nine o'clock no one stitch, Braoinín milk grass color it was, And that self was to receive the alms.
We were twenty grass out together, And the turnkey was ahead in the field, We did not have any model just like a sheep, Who would go around the ngalra crooked.
Not strange ideas during three my mind was, No worries on my family, That is not the poor old woman that I had it all working, She was crying two well be kinder there.
Trimming the whiskers in me with steel scissors, Shaving is the amount of hair on my head was, I dress up to suit petty, Leathstoca black and the other white.
No man in the parish two back leithneacht thereof, Two months there would not be bone narrow, There is no good in folklore than to describe it, But who is the prison and not go over there.
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.