Ar chonnlaigh ghlais an fhoghmhair

stóirín gur dhearc mé uaim

Ba deas do chos i mbróig

'Sba ró-dheas do leagan siubhail

Do [bad word] ar dhath na rósaí

'Sdo chúirníní bhí fighte dlúith

Monuar gan sinn 'ár bpósadh

Nó'r bórd luinge 'triall 'un siubhail
 
 
Tá buachaillí na h-áite seo

A' gartha 'gus ag éirghe teann

Is lucht na gcochán árd

A' deánamh [bad word] do mo chailín donn

Dá ngluaiseadh Rí na Spáinne

Thar sáile 's a shlóighte [bad word] 
Bhrúighfinn féar is fásach

'S bhéinn ar láimh le mo chailín donn

Ceannacht buaibh ar aontaigh'

Dá mbínn agus mo chailín donn

Gluais is tar a chéad-searc

Nó go dtéidh muid thar Ghaoth-Bearra 'nonn

Go sgartar ó n-a chéile

Bárr na gcraobh 's an eala ón tuinn

Ní sgarfar sin ó chéile

'S níl ach baois díbh á chur 'n mur gcionn


On the green stubble-fields of autumn
I saw you, my sweetheart
Nice were your feet in shoes
And wonderful your nimble gait
Your hair the color of roses
And your ringlets tightly plaited
Alas that we're not married
Or on board ship sailing away
The boys around here [bad word] and getting fired up
And the ones with the high-piled hair
Are making homes for my brown-haired girl
If the King of Spain would
Go abroad with his assembled men
I would trample pasture and wilderness
And I would be with my brown-haired girl
If only my brown-haired girl and I
Were buying cows at the fair
Go [bad word] first love
Until we go over to Gaoth-Bearra
Even if the tops of the branches were parted
And those who go against us are foolish
That would not separate us
And the swan were separated from the waves