Tras-scríbhinn

Inseoidh mé scéal, cumfaidh mé bréag (nó ' gcaithfidh mé imeacht).

Faraor géar deacrach gan mé taobh thoir dho Ghaillimh
Agus stór mo chroí a bheith ar láimh liom,
Loch Uí Fhloinn a bheith romhainn ar an mbealach
Is na faoileáin gheala bhána;
Is leatsa a rachainn go Conamara
Nó go (b)ruach na toinne an fhir báití
(...) agus go bhféadfainn mo stóirín a mhealladh
Slán ó bhéal ár namhaid.

Buachaillín deas óg mise is tá mise le pósadh
Is níor mhór dhomsa trí chuilthín éadaigh,
Cuilthín le haghaidh an phósta agus cuilthín le haghaidh an Domhnaigh
Is cuilthín le haghaidh chaon lá saoire;
Gheobhfaidh tú amach fós agus tuigfidh tú go mór é
Go mba deas an rud cuilthín (óg an) bhréidín,
Dá (...) (na bó) ag goil ag íoc luach an óil
Agus bean an tí go mór dhá chaoineadh.

Ba deise agus ba bhreáchte an (luisne) a bhí in mo grá-sa
Ná an pabhsae a ba deirge sa ngáirdín;
Ba gile (croí) a lámha ná an sneachta bán
Agus é a bheith dhá charnadh (ar) barr sléibhtí;
Níorbh fhada liom an lá a bheinn ag comhrá le mo ghrá
Agus ag síorchur na mbréagaí in úil di,
Ach mo chreach agus mo chrá thar éis a bhfuil tú a rá
Mar chonaic mé le aon bhliain déag thú.

Aistriúchán

I will tell a story, I will make up a lie until I have to go (?).

A great and difficult woe that I am not to the east of Galway
With my darling by my hand,
Lough O'Flynn would be ahead of us on the way
And the bright white seagulls;
It is with you that I would go to Conamara
Or to the banks of the drowning man's wave (?)
(...) and that I would be able to tempt my darling
Free from the clutches of our enemy.

I am a nice young lad and I am to be married
And I need three suits of clothing,
A suit for the wedding and a suit for the Sunday
And a suit for every holiday;
You will yet find it out and you will greatly understand it
That a new(?) suit of tweed would be a fine thing,
If (...) going to pay the price of the drink
While the woman of the house laments it greatly.

Much nicer and finer was the glow(?) of my love
Than the reddest posy in the garden;
Brighter was the (...) of her hand that the white snow
While it gathers on the tops of mountains;
I longed not(?) for the day I would be conversing with my darling
And constantly coaxing her,
But my sorrow and my anguish after all you are saying
Because(?) I have seen you for eleven years.

Tráchtaireacht

Nóta tráchtaireachta idir lámha.