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1. a bharra naofa | 2. Three girls dancing | 3. pólca na gclathacha + ólaim bainne | 4. seothín is seothó | 5. galar cam is muc | 6. do chaitheas ráithe | 7. Dagenham | 8. sláinte chugat is cabhair | 9. fairday in macroom in the 50’s. | 10. rainbird | 11. thíos ar bun an rátha + ‘as tough as táith fhéileann / the gooseberry jacket (slides) | 12. the promised bride | 13. an stáisiún | 14. imirce | 15. gobnait


1. a bharra naofa

A Bharra naofa ársa
Bí linn I lár na hoíche dubha
An dorchadas mórthimpeall ‘rainn
I stoirm diabhar domhain
Ár n-aoire ar na sléibhte
Tabhair aire dos na huain óg
A théann ar fán ó d’ thréid-se
I ngleann ainnis na n-olc.

Dúirfadh fadó go dtáinis chugainn
Aniar thar sléibhte garbha
Go Chloch-Bharrach ‘n a feictear dúinn
Rianta ded’ ghlúin ‘s do lámh(a)
Is bunaigh tú do thearmann
Do dhítreabh ‘s d’altóir
I lár an loich ‘r ‘n oileán bhig
Chun moladh Dia na nGrás.

Seal maith do d’ shaol do chaithis linn
Inár measc le neart do bheannachtaíbh
Ach glaoigh an dTiarna ‘rt taisteal ‘rís
Ar threo n’ mbradán chun na dtonn
Le Abhainn geal na Laoi Aniar
Trí cnoic ,trí gleannta ‘s Máighe
Go béal na hAbhainn I bhfad I gcéin
Ar imeall bóchna ‘s n’ trá

Do bhunais dúinn do thearmann
Le cluain is cill do d’ dheisceabail
Is múinid dúinn (an) maithúnas ceart
Grá d’ár dTiarna Dia
Is thógadar mórthimpeall ort
ar bhruach na Laoi an Cathair Geal
a sheasann fós ar gcuimhne ort
A Bharra naofa fhionn.

TRANSLATION
1. Holy Saint Finbarr;

Oh wise and blessed Finbarr,
be with us in the dark night
The bleakness all around us
In the false storm of this world

Our shepherd on the hillsides
Take care of your young lambs
That stray away from your flock
In the awful glen of evil.

It is said that long ago you came to us
From the west over the wild mountains
To ‘Finbarr’s rock’ where we still can see
The imprint of your hands and knees

And you founded there your refuge
Your hermitage and altar
in the middle of the lake on a little island
to praise the God of Love.

You spent a good while with us
Among us with the strength of your blessings
But the Lord called you away again,
In the direction of the salmon in the waves

Westwards with the bright Lee waters
Through hills. Glens and plains
To the mouth of the river far away
On the edge of the sea and the strand

Here you founded another refuge
With meadows and a church for your disciples
And taught us right forgiveness
Love for the Lord God

And built around you
On the edge of the Lee a bright City
That still stands in memory of you
Holy bright fair Barry.

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2. Three girls dancing

In a farmyard in 1943
Twisting away from the glare of the sun
Dancing in the summer heat
And the glow of the world when the world was young
Hitler had his war across the waves of emergency and flight
When all we wanted was a dance and a laugh
And a long walk home in the dark of night.

In the headland of a turnip field
Thinning under the burning sun
Sweltering in the august heat
And the work of days when the world was young
Mae looked sweet in her summer dress
In the bloom of youth and the work all done
When all we wanted was a dance and a laugh
And a squeeze or a kiss and a bit of fun

Captured in a photograph
Static and electric flash
Happy days of life’s sweet dance
Smiling in our joyful trance.

In the haggard at the corn
On the threshing stone
On the mower on the scythe on the world all young
On the mangolds on the twine on the paper bags
On the blinkers of the horse on the woodbine fags
On the windows on the walls on the beating hearts
The winds of change they hummed and sung
But all we needed was a dance and a laugh
Friends, family and neighbours to live among

Captured in photograph
Static and electric flash
Happy days of life’s sweet dance
Smiling in our joy filled trance.

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3. pólca na gclathacha + ólaim bainne

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4. seothín is seothó

Seothín is seothó éist le fuaim na habhann
Tá nead ag an dreoilín , tá ‘n cuach ar an gcrann
Mo leanbh beag gleoite, do shúile geal gorm
ag codladh go séimh agus suaimhneach

I solas na gréine ‘gus solas na ré
Beannachtaí Mhuire ‘gus beannachtaí Dé
I solas na gréine ‘gus solas na ré
Is tú peata d’athair ‘s do mháthair.

Seothín is Seothó éist le crónán an chait
Le cogar na tine is le cuisle an chloig
Is tusa mo gearcach , mo stóirín mo dhruid
I do cliabhán beag cluthair compordach

I solas na gréine ‘gus solas na ré
Beannachtaí Mhuire ‘gus beannachtaí Dé
I solas na gréine ‘gus solas na ré
Is tú peata d’athair ‘s do mháthair.

TRANSLATION
Seothín and seotho hear the sound of the sea
The wren has her nest and the cuckoo her tree
My little sweet baby, your eyes bright and blue
Sleeping in peace and in comfort

In the light of the sun and the light of the moon
The Blessings of Mary and blessings of God
In the light of the sun and the light of the moon
You’re the pet of your Mammy and Daddy

Seothín and seothó hear the purr of the cat
The whisper of the fire and the pulse of the clock
Yopur my little chicken, my treasure my sparrow
In the shelter of your comfortable little cradle.

In the light of the sun and the light of the moon
The Blessings of Mary and blessings of God
In the light of the sun and the light of the moon
You’re the pet of your Mammy and Daddy

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5. galar cam is muc

Bhí lánún ina cónaí ann I dtigín beag fadó
Thiar I gCúil na Cathrach, ní raibh capaill acu na bó
Ní raibh gandal ná cearc ná gé acu chun uibhice ná feoil
Ach bhí muc mór ramhar breá acu
bhí fáinne ina shrón

Tháinig galar mórthimpeall na h-áite ar a dtugtar an galar cam
Do tháinig sé síos ar an muc san
‘s ar an lánún bhí eagla an domhain
é caite síos sa chúinne, san cró ag cur allais na gcnámh
do cheapadar is do smaoiníodar ná raibh sé ina codladh go sámh.

Bhí draoi ina chónaí sa chomharsanacht agus thógadar chiuci an scéal,
‘nis dúinn ‘cad tá ar ár muicín bhocht (abair cad‘n-thaobh ar ár muicín bocht)
Nó ‘an bhfuil sé ag deireadh a shaol?’
‘bean nú muc istoíche’ an seanfhocail a bhí ina bhéil,
ach dúirt Diarmán leo ‘éist anois-go gcuirfeadh mé leigheas san scéal.’

Tóg do muc abhaile leat ‘s téirse treasna na habhann,
Fanfadh do bhean ar ‘n dtaobh seo I’d dhiadh is screadadh sí ortsa thall
‘Cad é sin agat ?’ is freagair sí ‘muc is galar cam’
Freagraíoch sí ‘tabhair an muc chugamsa is coinnigh-se ‘n galar ann’

Do Chuaigh an lánún abhaile do dhéanadar mar a dúradh leo,
An fear leis an muc thar an abhainn is d ‘ fhan an bhean ina dhiadh , dar nóigh
‘cad tá agat?’ ar sise an fhreagra -‘muc is galar cam’
ó tabhair anal an galar cam is fág an muicín thall.

Mhuise arsa an fear ansan
‘s a croí lán le díomá,
is oth liom a bheith le rá agam go chuamar go Diarmán
rachamaíd síos don Aifrinn,
fág thall an amadáin
agus déarfiamid paidir le Dia
go leigheasfar ár muc leis an galar cam.


TRANSLATION
5. The pig with the swine flu.

There was a newly wedded couple in a little house long ‘go
West in Cúl Na Cathrach, they had no horse they had no cow
They had no gander, hen nor goose for eggs or for meat
But a fine fat pig is what they had
With a huge ring going through his nose.

A disease came to the locality that they called
the Swine Flu which the pig contracted
The newly weds were terrified.
The pig was thrown down in the corner, sweating like a pig.
They knew well that he wasn’t just sleeping.

A wise healer lived in the area that they went to with their story
“Tell us what’s wrong with our little pig, is he going to die or what?”
“Don’t get a woman or a pig by night” was the old proverb in his mind but instead he said
“Hold on know and I’ll sort out this problem”

“Take the pig home with you and cross over the river with it,
let your wife stay on this side and she must call out to you “What have you got?”
and reply to her “A pig with swine flu” and then she must say “Bring the pig over here to me and leave the flu behind you ” .

Well, the couple went home happy and did exactly as they were told.
The man crossed the river with the pig and his wife stayed on the opposite side
She said “What have you got” and he replied “A pig with swine flu”
Then she said “Bring the swine flu over here and leave the pig behind you”

“Oh Lord” said the husband, his heart full of disappointment, “I’m sorry we ever said we’d ever go to that man Diarmán, we’ll go down to Mass for ourselves and leave that eejit behind us, and say a prayer that God will heal our pig with the swine flu.”

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6. do chaitheas ráithe

Do Chaitheas ráithe fliuch is fuair
Ag briseadh cloch’ ar taobh an ród
Casúr im’ láimhe, le buille trom
Ag smaoineamh faoi mo bhaile

D’fhágas ann mo chroí ‘s mo stór
Gan bróg, gan brait, gan feoil, gan plúir
Gan gloine ins na bhfuinneog thall
Ach cíos le fáil is céasta.

Ag treabha ins na h-acra cruaidh
Mo láimhe préachta leis an bhfuacht
Ach botháinín beag againn go fóill
Gan breosla ann ach aitinn.

Ag cogadh leis na clocha mhór
Ó eirí geal na gréine soir
Ó bun an cnoic is sruth na ndeor
Go tosach dubh na h-oíche.

Mar spailpín ins an Fhómhair árd
Nó servant boy ag iarracht bórd
Ag sclábhaíocht crua na ndaoine mór
Is said eírí suas in áirde

Ní fhéadfainn éalú as an saol
Mar eala bán nó an bonán buí
Nú fuiseoig saor s ‘é ag ceoil go binn,
Ag eitilt ins na spéirtheabh.

‘Dá rachfá thall na sléibhte dubha’
a dúirt an fuiseoig liom inniu
‘Éalód deachaireacht deochar dall’
níl ann ach aisling bréagach.

TRANSLATION
6. A season I spent.
A season I spent there, wet and cold
Breaking rocks at the side of the road
Hammer in hand, a heavy load
Thinking of my homeplace.

Where I left behind my heart, my treasure
Without shoe or coat, without meat or flour
Where no windows fill the room with light
But where we are tortured by the rent collector.

Ploughing the hard acres
My hands perished with the cold
With only a shack to live in
And nothing to burn but furze roots.

Warring with those huge stones
From the rising of the sun at dawn
Through the weary hills and the streams of tears
To the dark fall of the evening.

I’m a labourer at the break of day
Or a servant boy at the hiring fair
At the Harvest I will labour hard
For the wealthy in their mansions.

How could you escape this life of pain
Or flee this tornment like the swan or the crane
Or the soaring lark singing sweet and plain
At liberty under God’s sky.

“If only you could fly over the black hills”
The lark sang to me today
“And go through with a difficult and blind escape”
But I’m afraid it’s a vain and false imagining.

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7. Dagenham

Táimse anseo I nDagenham,
deich mbliana tar éis na stoirme
A sheol mé féin thar na Tonnta
Mar mo charad atá imithe romham
Ba bhreá liom mo bhaile beag gleoite
‘s bheith ag chodladh ‘s ag dúiseacht go slán
I measc mo mhuintir breá féinig
Cois bhruacha Abha an tSuláin.

Ag tochailt ‘s ag réabadh na sráide
In ionad bheith ag fuirsí an fhomhair
Gan torthaí bheith curtha ná síolta
Ach dhá láimh is iad préachta ón bhfuacht
Is cuimhin liom an meitheal san mhóinfhéir
Le stoca tae , subh is arán
Ag tógáil na cruacha go haerach
Cois bhruacha Abha ‘n tSuláin.

Caitheas-se seal I Mhanchester
is tréimhse ag sclábhaíocht I Leeds
Ach táimse anois ar an Winchester road,
le áiteanna eile fan slí
Ag obair le daoine ón Afraic,
ó Shasana, ón Fhrainc is ón Spáinn
Ach níl aon tinteán mar mo thinteán beag féin
Cois bhruacha Abha an tSuláin.

Ba mhaith liom bheith ‘g scoraíocht lenár gcomharsan
Sona sásta I gcomhluadar mo ghaoil
Ag éisteacht le píobaire an taighleach is gaoluinn breá clist’ óm’ bhéal
Ag amhrán, ag scéalaíocht ‘s ag rógaireacht
Ag samhlú na síóg sa bhán,
‘s guím anois go rachaidh mé thar nais
go bruacha breá geala an t Suláin.




TRANSLATION
7. Dagenham

Here I am in Dagenham, ten years after the storm that drove me across the Irish Sea
Just like my friends who have left before me.
I’d love to be in my own beautiful little village, sleeping and waking there at my ease and in good health, among my own fine people on the banks of the River Sullane.


I’m digging and tearing up the streets here in this alien city
rather than working in my own place, harrowing my own ground and preparing for spring,
yet here I am without fruit to harvest or seed to sow.
Here my hands are perished with the cold but I remember well the community at work together in the meadows, with a bottle of hot tea in a sock to quench my thirst and plain bread and jam for our tea break, finishing the day building the hay into a huge rick, with the height of fun between us.

I spent some time in Manchester, and some few years slaving in Leeds but now I’m living on the Winchester Road, having lived in many different places over the years.
I’ve worked with many fine people from Africa, England, France and Spain
But there’s just no place like my own home place on the banks of the River Sullane.

I’d rather be meeting my neighbour’s at home,
Happy and contented in the company of my own relations,
Listening to the crickets behind the fireplace at night
Speaking in our own native tongue.
we’d pass the time singing songs, telling yarns and jokes,
and still I pray that soon I’ll head back to the beautiful Banks of Sullane.

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8. sláinte chugat is cabhair

Ar an bportach dúinn ag baint do mhóna
Is mise a bhí ar an sleáin
Ar an bportach dúinn ag baint mo mhóna
Is tusa ‘imithe ar fán.

Sláinte chugat is cabhair
I dealbh go deo ná rabhar
Sláinte chugat is breis
Is sláinte chughamsa leis

Ag tochailt ‘s ag treabhadh do garraí tráthnóna
Ag cabhrú le cur na scoilláin
Ag treabhadh ‘s ag tochailt mo garraí tráthnóna
Gan cabhair is ‘gus é ag taisteáil


Nuair a théimse ag ól na gloiní porter
Ní bímse liom fhéin faraoir
Bíonn cabhair agam go minic ‘s coíche
Nuair a fhillean mo dhuine ró dhaor.


Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine
‘s ní thagann an ciall roimh aois
ach níl aon cabhair uaim ‘s mé ag pógadh mo mhnaoise
“Ó dread leat gan filleadh arís”.


TRANSLATION
8.Good health and help to you.

Out on the bog one day we were cutting your turf,
I was using the sleáin (turf cutting spade-the more difficult task)
Then another day when we were meant to be cutting my turf,
You were nowhere to be found.

Health and help to you
I hope you’ll never see a poor day
Health to you and more
And health to myself while I’m at it.

Digging and plouoghing your garden one day
Helping sowing the potatoes
Ploughing and digging my own garden this evening
With no help from you when it’s needed.

Whenever I go drinking porter
I’m rarely on my own, unfortunately
That’s something I always have help with
And this dear friend returns again.

Pepole live in one another’s shadow
And sense won’t come before age
But I certainly don’t need help kissing my wife,
Go ‘way from me and don’t come back anymore.

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9. fairday in macroom in the 50’s

I’ll shine up my shoes Monday evening and iron the collar and shirt
I’ll make extra use of the basin and jug to remove every smidgeon of dirt
Preparing for fair day on Tuesday, once a month in the town of Macroom
Herself will be powdered and pasted and primmed, not a hair out of place ‘le mo rúin’

Agus lá breá aoíbhainn ‘tá geallta again, beidh scléip agus craic agus spóirt.
(We are promised a fine enjoyable day out, we’ll have fun and frolics and sport)

We’ll milk the cows airy and easy and drive them back out of the stall
Our Daisy and Maisy and Bella and Blue will give plenty or nothing at all
We’ll boil up the breakfast bright early and harness the horse to the cart
And, all full of oats we will saddle ourselves le h- áthas an domhain in our hearts-

On up to the square with my Lao-gheal, tied on to the side of the car,
The place will be teaming with dealers and drovers and chancers and standings and stalls
A calf and a couple of bonhamhs to sell if I’m lucky says Dan
We won’t have the riches of Daimer himself but we’ll live at our ease while we can-

We’ll meet with the crowd from Kilgarvan,Inchigeelagh and sweet Lackabán
From Inchanahoury and Currahy East, Clountycarthy,Cúil Aodha and Ulláns
They’ll come in from Carrigaphúca,from Milleen’s, Dúndáradharc, Derryvane
Céima’tarbh and Acharos, from Rathúna and Prohus, Deireach, Fuheries and Gougane-

‘Seán the Harness’ for halters of leather
(Cronin’s) Croozey hall where the aprons hang down
Harry Murphy’s and Warren’s for tinctures and cures and in Creedon’s you’ll save half a crown
O’ Leary/O’ Shea, Johnny Curly’s, Kerins-Kelleher for a taisceáin of snuff
Mikey Twomey’s for twine, Andrew Golden’s for wine
(The )Munster and Leinster (bank) gives ‘never enough’

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10. rainbird

Rainbird, o Rainbird, inis dom do scéalsa
An rabhais cois abhann ar barr-ghlas na hínse?
‘s an bhfanfad anseo I mo gháirdín ‘r feadh tamaill
go dtiocfaidh an t-am d’amhrán na scamaill?

Rainbird, tá scáth na tráthnóna ag titim,
‘s an ghrian ag imeacht thar Dabhas, Sheithe is Dúchaill
cá raighfeá thar oíche, an bhfuil nead ag do chéile?
‘s é go deas breá compórtach I ndiadh fuacht na hoíche?

Is é i dtosach na bliana ‘s le cuireadh na síolta
Tá na plúiríní bána faoi bhláth ins na coillte
Comeád id’ scórnach do guth geal go láithreach
Ar gcuid oibre deas cruaidh críochnóimíd amárach.

Ansan lig do amhrán binn bríomhar ‘s beosach
Árdaigh do scéal do gach duine go neosfad
Le beannacht an bháisteach go bhfásfaidh an ghlasra
Nuair a tiocfaidh ó neamh na tuillte ‘s na deora


TRANSLATION
10. Rainbird

Rainbird, oh Rainbird,
Tell to me your story
Were you down by the river, at the green tops of the Lee fields?
Will you not stay here in my garden for a small while
Until the time has come to sing your cloud song?.

Rainbird, the shadows of evening are falling,
And the sun going over Douse, Sheha and Duachaill
Where will you find at night, has your love a sweet nest
Fine and comfortable to face the cold of night?

It’s the start of the year and with the seed’s invitation,
The small flowers are blooming down in the greenwoods
Keep your rain song to yourself for another while,
Until we finish our spring sowing tomorrow morning.

Then you can sing out to your hearts content
Out loud to let everyone know your story
That with the blessing of the rain the garden will sprout
Under the tears and the floods of Heaven.

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11. thíos ar bun an rátha + ‘as tough as táith fhéileann / the gooseberry jacket (slides)

Thíos ar bhun an ráth inniu
Chualas chapaill, láidir fiáin
Tríod na gcoillte scaipeas féin
In éineacht le mo stóirín

Súile glas is béilín min
D’fhéach sí go h-álainn gleoite
Rachamaid le chéile thar
Na sléibhte ‘gus na gleannta.

TRANSLATION
11. Down at the bottom of the fort.

Down at the bottom of the fort today
I heard a strong white horse that neighed
Through the wild woods I escaped,
Along with my sweet treasure
With the bluest eyes and the softest voice
She looked so beautiful and gorgeous
Together we will travel oe’r
The glensides and the mountains.

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12. the promised bride

When you stole your arm around my waist
And you asked me to be your bride
And you promised the earth and the moon and the stars
And happiness beside
At Baile buí in Dunmanway town
As the august sun burnt high
And I thought that my heart would fly and sing
From this earth to the endless sky

I believed your words to be kind and true
And your heart like a treasure bright
Like the flowers of spring when the small birds sing
To greet the morning light
But the cold wind comes with a cutting tongue
And sets a seed of blight
And nobody sees where destruction breathes
His breath in the dark of the night.

The black and tans came in ’21
And dragged you in your youth and your pride
To Wormwood Scrubs’ in the dark and the cold
Far from lovely Uíbh Laoghaire’s green side.
For trying to loosen the shackles and chains,
The bonds of oppression to break
You stood like the gentlest lamb among wolves,
A witness to truth for our sakes.

By war and division by hunger and pain
They ventured to conquer again
But all of their efforts are surely in vain
When our spirit can never give in.
And every morning I kneel and I pray
For a letter that never arrives
And I wonder if ever you’ll come back again
To Uíbh Laoghaire and your promised bride.

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13. an stáisiún

Ó bí ann gan teip is ná bac le do ‘frown’
Bí ag taisteal go triopallach tapaidh ón ‘town’
Tar leat go haerach is gliondar I’d chroí
Beidh tae tr’éis an Aifrinn, císte is drámaí

Tráthnóna Dé Sathairn cur snas ar do bhróg
Cuir uait do ghiobail is cur ort do culaith nua
Trousers and braces and collar and tie
Agus timpeall a seacht bí ag siúil ‘bye an bye’

Táimíd chun ghlanadh gach balla ‘gus lic
Gach cúinne, gach doras, gach fuinneog sa tigh
‘distemper’ a chuir díreach lastigh don ‘hall’
ní bheidh smúitín le feiscint in aon chor ‘at all’

Beidh an béile breá ullamh ‘gus fáilte roimh cách
Agus tiocfaidh na comhairsain ár gcáirde isteach
Beidh búirtheach mór tine sa chistin ansin
Beidh éisteacht ár bpeacaí agus Aifrinn againn.

An sagart paróiste (‘n)a chulaith corcoradh ‘s bán,
Na fir ina sheasamh, ‘s ar suíocháin na mná
Ar stóilín na pháistín beag óg ag amhrán
‘s ag deireadh an léacht bhéadh ár anam an-glan.

‘S an Aifrinn thart bhéadh ocras mór ort
ag tnúth rud le nithe is braonín don tart
bíodh scadáinín dhearga ,prátaí le feoil
beadh jelly ‘gus currant cake , ‘s toddy le n-ól

Bheadh porter ina ndiaidh ón buidéal mór donn
Bheadh tae agus císte na h-úlla ón gcrann
Bheadh caint faoin na cnubu, aon easpa ‘s aon spré
Bheadh scilling don sagart ag deireadh an lae

Bheadh scéalaíocht go déanach ‘s rinnce le ceol
Beidh tuilleadh le rá faoi na blianta fadó
Faoin mbeirt fhear óig déag mar strawboys ag seinnt
Faoi n’ bpósadh na sochraidí baiste ‘gus roinnt.

Anois, bí ann gan teip agus hata ar ‘d cheann
Bí ag taisteal go triopallach tapaidh ón ‘town’
Tar leat le do stór agus gliondair I’d chroí
Beidh stáisiúin an Aifrinn againn in ár tí.

TRANSLATION
13. The Station Mass

Be there without fail and never mind your frown
Travel quickly and sprightly from town
Come to visit us with happiness and joy in your heart
We’ll have tea after mass, cakes and frolics.

On Saturday afternoon shine up your shoes
Take off your work rags and put on your good clothes
And around seven o’ clock make your way over along.

We must clean every wall and sill,
Every corner, door and window in the house
We’ll put ‘distemper’ inside the front door on the wall,
There won’t be a speck or a spot to be seen.

There’ll be a big meal prepared and a welcome for all,
When our friends and neighbours will all come around
A big blazing fire in the kitchen
There’ll be confessions heard and Mass to follow.

The big parish priest with his purplr and white robes
The men standing and the women in seats
The small children on a long stool, singing
And after the readings our souls will be cleansed.

After Mass you’ll be hungry,
Expecting something to eat and something for your thirst.
Ther’ll be salt herring, potatoes and meat
Jelly, currant cake and hot whiskey to drink.

There’ll be porter then from the big brown bottle, tea and apple tart,
Talk about fortunes, the economy and wedding dowries.
There’ll always be a few pounds for the priest at the end of the day.

We’ll have story telling late into the night, dancing and music and even more to say about days long gone, for instance stories of the dozen ‘straw boys’ that would turn up to play music to celebrate a wedding.
We’d have more gossip and chat about marriages, funerals, baptisms and more.

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14. imirce



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15. gobnait

Ó Chonnacht do chuir Dia chugainn
Bean naofa chuig an áit seo
Thar na cluainte, na sléibhte ‘s na n-abhann
Le beannachtaí Íosa
Tar chugainn anois in ár aois
Cóir na n-easláin I bhfulaingt is I mbreoiteacht
A Ghobnait geal, comhartha an ghrá idir Dhia ‘s a mhuintir.

TRANSLATION
15.Gobnait

From the province of Connaught
God sent us a Holy saint to this area.
Over meadows, mountains and rivers
With the Blessings of Jesus.
Oh Come to us again in this age
Help of the sick and the suffering in sorrow
Bright Saint Gobnait, a sign of
Divine Love between God and his people.

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Raggedy Records © 2013 Ger Wolfe