’Á mbeinn phéin in Ard a’ Chuain
In aice an tsléibhe úd atá i bhfad bhuam,
A Rí! gurbh aighearach mo chuairt
Go Gleann na gCuach Dé Domhnaigh.
(Loinneog) Agus och, och éirí ’lig is ó
Éirí lionndubh is ó
’Sé mo chroí atá trom is é leonta.
Is ioma’ Nollaig a bhí agam péin
I mBun Abhann Doinne is mé gan chéill,
Ag iomáin ar an tráigh bhán,
Mo chamán bán in mo dhorn liom.
(Loinneog)
Nach tuirseach mise anseo liom péin,
Nach n-airím guth coiligh, londuibh nó traon’,
Gealbhan, smólach, naoscach phéin,
Is chan aithním péin an Domhnach.
(Loinneog)
Is ioma’ amharc a bhí agam péin
Ó Shrón Ghearráin go dtí an Mhaoil
Ar loingeas mór ag cáith ar ghaoith,
Agus cabhlach an Rí Seorlaí.
(Loinneog)
’Á mbeinn phéin i mBun Abhann Doinne,
Far a bhfuil mo chairdean uile,
Gheobhainn ceol ann, ól is imirt,
Is chan fhaighinn bás in uaigneas.
(Loinneog)
Mo sheacht mallacht ar an tsaol,
Is caraí é go mór ná an t-éag;
Mheall sé mé ó mo mhuintir phéin,
Mar mheallfaí an t-uan bhón chaora.
(Loinneog)
’Á mbeadh agam péin ach coit’ is rámh,
Ná go n-iomairinn ar dhroim an tsnáimh,
Ag dúil as Dia go ruiginn slán
Is go bhfaighinn bás in Éirinn.
(Loinneog) |
If only I were in Articoan,
Near that mountain that is far away,
O King! my visit would be light-hearted
To the Cuckoos’ Glen on Sunday.
Agus och, och éirí ’lig is ó
Éirí lionndubh is ó
My heart is heavy and wounded.
Many’s a Christmas I would be,
In Cushendun when [young and] foolish,
Hurling on the white strand,
My white hurl in my hand.
Agus och, etc.
Am I not miserable here by myself,
Not hearing the voice of cock, blackbird or corncrake,
Sparrow, thrush, or even the snipe,
And I do not even recognise Sundays.
Agus och, etc.
Many’s the sight that I saw
From Garron Point to the Moyle,
A great fleet driven by the wind;
And King Charlie’s armada.
Agus och, etc.
If I were in Cushendun,
Where all my friends are,
I would find music there, drink and games,
And I would not die alone.
Agus och, etc.
My seven curses on the world,
It is more treacherous than death;
It lured me from my own people,
As the lamb would be lured from the sheep.
Agus och, etc.
If only I had a skiff and oar,
I would row upon the flood-tide,
Hoping to God to arrive safely,
So that I will be in Ireland when I die.
Agus och, etc. |
