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Comhairle a fuaireasa amuigh ar an mbóthar Ó rógaire sagairt an seanduine a phósadh Ach ba chuma leis siúd ach go méadóinn a phóca Is go mbeinn fad a mhairfinn ag brath ar na comharsainn
Curfá: Ó dheara 'sheanduine, leatsa ní gheobhadsa Ó dheara 'sheanduine, loscadh is dó ort Ó dheara 'sheanduine, leatsa ní gheobhadsa Is dá mbeinnse i mbéal dorais ná beirimse beo ort
Chuasa go Corcaigh ag triall ar ghléas tórraimh Píopaí tobac agus cláracha comhrann Ar mo theacht dom abhaile go tinn tuirseach brónach Cá bhfaighinnse mo 'sheanduine ach ag róstadh muicfheola
Dá bhfaighinnse mo 'sheanduine báite i bpoll móna A chosa bheith briste is a chnámha a bheith leonta Do thabharfainn abhaile é is do dhéanfainn é a thórramh Is do shiúllóinn amach leis na buachaillí óga
Má phósainn tú an seanduine, pósfaidh tú claidhaire Fágfaidh sé a bhalcaisí romhat ar a staighre A déanamh ar maidean beidh sé ag cnáimhseáil le claidhreacht Is siar sa tráthnóna beidh ag seimint go meidhreach
Phósas an seanduine, is orm bhí díchéille Dheineas an méid sin ar chomhairle mo ghaolta Chuas abhaile leis faraoir an scéal sin Is déiríos ar maidin is bfhearr liom an t-éag liom
Ó dheara 'sheanduine, leatsa ní gheobhadsa Ó dheara 'sheanduine, loscadh is dó ort Ó dheara 'sheanduine, leatsa ní gheobhadsa Is cúpla Domhnach a chuirfidh fén bhfód thú
Advice I received out on the road From a rogue of a priest to marry an old man But he cared for nothing save that I would increase his wealth And that I would be for my whole life dependent on the neighbors
Chorus (after each verse): O yerra, old man, being with you is not for me O yerra, old man, may you be scorched and burned O yerra, old man, being with you is not for me And if I were at the door I would catch you alive
I went to Cork looking for the wherewithal for a wake Tobacco pipes and wood for a coffin On my return home, sick, tired and sad Where did I find my old man but roasting bacon
If I were to find my old man drowned in a boghole His legs broken and his bones in pain I'd take him home and I'd wake him And I'd walk out with the young boys
If you marry an old man, you will marry a rogue Who will leave rags before you on the stairs In the morning he'll be complaining with roguery And in the evening he'll be merrily playing music
I married an old man, I had no sense I did that on the advice of my relatives I went home with him, sad is the story And I got up in the morning preferring to be dead
O yerra, old man, being with you is not for me O yerra, old man, may you be scorched and burned O yerra, old man, being with you is not for me And a couple of Sundays will put you under the sod
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