Lyrics: Original and Translations

Here's a chance to share lyrics,...in Gaeilge or English.This could go well with anything posted on the links page. Translations would be greatly appreciated. Also, feel free to write lyrics "phonetically" to help with correct pronunciation, which might prove easier for those not fluent in Irish Gaeilge. Feel free to note any corrections or differences in your posted comments.

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Comment by Cliff Abrams on April 10, 2018 at 20:19

Ha! That's it (or close enough)! Thanks very much.

Comment by Shawn McBurnie on April 10, 2018 at 20:10

As requested by Cliff: ear transcription of "The Red Knickers" as sung by Liam Weldon on 1691's 1973 recording "Irish Folk Songs." Corrections and insights welcome!

As I went down to the fair of Athy
I saw a red knickers hung up for to dry
I took off me britches and hung them nearby
To keep the old red knickers war-um

Chorus:
Diddly-owten de rooten de dowten de la
If your da doesn’t want it give it to your ma
And if she doesn’t like it then try your grandpa
A rooten de rappity tay-rum

As I come back from the fair of Maynooth
I met a young woman, she’d only one tooth
I up with me staff and I tell you the truth
I tore a big hole in her prashogue*

Chorus

I journeyed down to the fair of Macroom
I asked an alewife for to hire me a room
I will then says she now you Dublin bastoon
If you prove that you’re civil and sober


Chorus (alt.):

Diddly-umpen de rooten de dooten de la
If your da doesn’t want it give it to your ma
And if she doesn’t like it then try your grandpa
B' god boys I wish I’d some porter

Chorus

You dirty old divil you stupid bastoon
You pissed in the bed with the po** in the room
With the toe of my boot I’ll head you for Macroom
I’ll alleviate your constipation

Chorus

She came down the valley her stockin’s were black
I’d love to be grippin’ the small of her back
She came up the mountain her stockin’s was white
I’d love to be twangin’ her garters


* wild mustard - what this is slang for, I couldn’t possibly say.

** chamberpot, possibly from Fr. pot de chambre

Comment by Dhomhnaill A. Lopez on February 3, 2013 at 18:35

SEAN-DUN NA NGALL

IS GRA GEAL MO CHROI THU A 'THIR CHONAILL A STOR,

I DO LUI MAR BHEADH SEOID GHLAS SAN FHARRAIGE MHOR,

O GRAIM THU I GCONAI GO MOCH IS GO MALL,

AGUS MOLFAIDH ME CHOICHE THU A SHEAN-DUN NA NGALL.

 

NIL CONTAE IN EIRINN NIOS DEISE NA THU,

NIL DAOINE SA DOMHAN MHOR IS FEARR CAIL IS CLU,

NA MAR TA I DTIR CHONAILL ABHUS AGUS THALL.

O! BLATH BAN AR DTIRE THU A SHEAN-DUN NA NGALL.

 

DEAREST ONES, WE HOLD YOU IN THE HOLLOW OF LOVE,

AS THE MOUNTAINS RISE TO MEET THE SKIES UP ABOVE,

AND AS HILLS OF GREEN GIVE WAY TO HEAVENS OF BLUE.

AS THE ANGELS WREAK, SO MORTALS SEEK, A ONE FROM THE TWO.

 

TA TEANGA AR SINSEAR A LABHAIRT ANN GO FOILL,

CHOMH MILIS BINN BLASTA LE HAMHRAN  NO CEOL

NA N-AINGEAL SNA FLAITHIS GAN SMACHTU GAN SMAL,

O GRAIM GO DEO THU, A SHEAN DUN NA NGALL.

Comment by Dhomhnaill A. Lopez on February 3, 2013 at 18:00

Betsy Belle and Mary Gray

O Betsy Belle 'n Mary Gray     They were twa bonnie lasses.

They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae,     'N theekit it o'er wi' rashes.

They theekit it o'er wi' rashes green     They theekit it o'er wi' heather

But the pest cam' frae the borough's town     And slew them baith thegither

'N Mary's locks are like the craw     Her een like diamonds glances

She's aye sae clean, redd up 'n braw     She kills when e'er she dances

Blyth as a kid, with wit at will     She's bloomin', tight 'n tall is

'N guides her aires sae gracefu' still,     O Jove, she's like thy pallas

They would'na hae their shoe o' red     Nor would they hae them yellow

But they would hae their shoe o' green     to ride through the streets o' Yarrow

They thocht to lie in Methven Kirkyard     Amang their noble kin

But they maun lie in Dronach-haugh     'N beik fornenst the sun

O, Betsy Belle 'n Mary Gray     They were twa bonnie lasses

They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae     'N theekit it o'er wi' rashes

Comment by Dhomhnaill A. Lopez on February 3, 2013 at 17:39

Are Ye Sleepin', Maggie?

Mirk 'n rainy is the nicht     There's no' a staum in a' the carry;

Lichtnin's gleam athwwart the lift,     'N cauld winds drive wi' winter's fury.

CHORUS>    O! are ye sleepin', Maggie? O! are ye sleepin', Maggie?

                  Let me in for loud (lood) the linn is howlin' o'er the warlock craigie!!

Fearfu' soughs the boortree bank,     The rifted wood roars wild 'n drearie.

Loud the iron yett does clank     The cry o' hoolits mak's me eerie.

CHORUS>

Aboon ma breath, I daurnae speak     for fear I rouse yer waukrife daddie.

Cauld's the blast upon ma cheek,     O rise! O rise! ma bonnie lassie!

CHORUS>

She op'd the door, she let him in;     he coost aside his dreepin' plaidie.

Blaw yer warst, ye rain 'n wind      since Maggie noo I'm here aside ye.

CHORUS>

Mirk 'n rainy is the nicht,     There's no' a staum in a' the carry

Lichtnin's gleam athwart the lift,     'n cauld winds drive wi' winter's fury!!

Closing CHORUS>

Noo since ye're waukin', Maggie.     Noo since ye're waulkin', Maggie.

What care I for hoolit's cry,     for boortree bank, or warlock craigie

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