I

Trathnóinín aoibhinn is mé ar fíor an Ghleanna,

Is mé ag seoladh na gamhan faoin bhfásach,

‘Sea do casadh orm spéirbhean mhaorga, mhaisiúil,

Chiúintais, bhanúil, mhánla.

D’fhiosraíos féin den spéirbhean chailce,

A’ dtiocfadh sí go lá liom,

Is gur le fáinne an lae beam araon ‘nár seasamh,

Ag seoladh na ngamhan faoin bhfásach.

II

Ar lorg na ngamhan ‘sea d’fhágas an baile

Agus ceann ní bhfaighead go lá díobh

Tá m’athair gan chiall im dhiaidh sa bhaile

Is mo mháithrín go buartha, cráite.

Dá bhfaighinn cead saor ó mhaor na coille

Féar a thabhairt go lá dóibh,

Is gur le fáinne an lae beam araon nár seasamh,

Ag seoladh na ngamhan faoin bhfásach.

III

Tá crann cumhra i lúib na coille agus ragham araon go lá ann,

Mara mbeish ceol binn na n-éan dár síor-chur a chodladh

Coillte is tortha ag fás ann.

Beidh an corn dá líonadh ann, croí gan dochma,

Agus gloiní dí na Spáinne.

Beidh puins á riar ann le haghaidh dul a chodladh,

Agus gheobhaimíd na gamhna amárach.

IV

Ar lorg na ngamhan do chuireas-sa mo leanbh,

Is níor tháinig sí in am ná i dtráth chugam,

Mar tá Cormac Buí ar an gclaí ‘na sheasamh

Agus maor na coille lámh leis.

Mar tá siúd riamh i ndiaidh na mbruinneall

Agus srian ní chuirfear go brách leo.

Ach má tá dlí le fáile san áit seo go bhfuilim,

Ó sea, bainfeadsa diól mo ghrá díobh.

V

Is fíodóir gallda mé anall thar caise,

Buachaill socair, sásta.

Do chasfainn ceol le spól fí anairt

Agus d’fhífinn sac nó mála.

Do dhéanfainn rómhar i gcomhair na bhfear,

Lá breá Earraigh Mhárta,

Do gheobhainn mo chéachta i ndiaidh na gcapall

Is do threabhfainn iomaire bháin duit.

VI

Lá breá Domhnaigh sa Ghleann is mé ag taisteal

Mar a ngabhann gach maith le fánaidh,

Bíonn an breac breá, leabhair ‘san bradán slaite

Súistí is feac beag rámhainne.

Na cailíní óga, gleoite, deasa

Ciúin, tais, banúil, mánla

A sláinte dhá n-ól ag mnáibh is ag fearaibh,

Agus cé ná tabharfadh grá dóibh.

Mícheál Ó Donnghaile Íochtar Cua.

 DRIVING THE CALVES TO THE PASTURE

I

One beautiful evening on the rim of the valley

As I drove the calves to the the bawn field.

I met a young lady sedate and lovely,

Gentle, womanly and charming.

I asked this young lady so dair and so pleasant

Would she come herding till dawning,

And at breask of day we’ll both ne standing

Driving the calves to the bawn field.

II

Looking for the calves I left on my own home

And ne’er a one to be seen.

My father is anxious at home without me

And my mother plagued with unease.

If I got free grazing from steward of the wood,

I’d leave them there till morning,

By the dawn of day, we would both be standing,

Driving the calves to the bawn field.

III

There’s a fragrant tree in the nook of the wood,

And we’ll both go there till morning.

Where the music of birds will lull us to sleep

And trees and fruit for harvest.

The horn will be filled and we’ll both be happy

And wine from Spain will be ample,

We’ll have punch to drink before going to sleep

And we’ll find the calves in the morning.

IV

I sent my child out after the calves,

And she didn’t come home as ordered.

For Cormac Buí was there on the fence

And the steward of the wood on call too.

For they are always seducing young girls,

And no one to curb or restrain them,

But I’ll get the law on my side in this matter,

I’ll get revenge for my darling.

V

I am a skilled weaver from across the water,

A sensible, serious young craftsman

I can make music with shuttle and loom,

And I’d weave a sack or a garment.

I could set a garden with any man

On a fine spring day in March, too.

I could hitch my plough and tackle the horse

And plough a ridge on the bawn field.

VI

One fine Sunday as I walk through the valley

There is plenty there to harvest,

There is limber trout and the mighty salmon

And flail and spade to garner.

All the young girls, fair and lovely,

Sedate and womanly and charming

Their health we drink, both men and women

And who would not love them always.

This song was given by Michael Joe Donnelly, Eightercua.