Song Lyrics - Na Focail

An Buachaillín Bán

 

Tá mo chroí-se go tláth lag ‘s i lár mo chuid saothair

Tagann lán tocht im chléibhse cé nár mhéin liom é rá

Tá an díbirt i ndán dom ó bháin bheannaibh Éireann

Is fánach mo shaolsa ‘s is déarach mo chás.

Is cuimhin liom an tráth úd a ghrá ghil na n-ae istigh

Thugas grá searc is gilleadh dod chaomh roisc thar chách

A Rí ghil na n-árann dob fhearr liom go n-éagfainn

I láthair mo ghaolta is mo bhuachaillín bán.

 

Tá críoch Inis Failbhe go lán fad’ i ndaorbhroid 

Go cráite ‘s go céasta i ngéibhinn na namhad

Nó an fíor nach foláir duit go brách bheith go déarach

A oileáinín bhig mhaorga na naomh is na mbard.

Ó guímse go hard ar an Ard Athair Naofa

Chun ár agus léir-scrios do dheanamh ar Sheán

Do dhíbir na táinte thar sáile ‘na gcéadta

‘S chuir fán orm féinig óm’ bhuachaillín bán.

Fanny Power 

 

Is mian liom trácht ar ógmhnaoi shuairc,

Is uaisle geanúla gnaoi ’s cáil,

Do bhíos insa mbaile ag cuan Loch Riach:

Táim buíoch gur casadh mé láimh léi.

Is aerach ’s is tréitheach an mhaighdean dheas scafánta,

Grá croí na hÉireann an péarla deas galánta;

Ólaidh go tréan ’s ná déanaigí faillí

Fé thuairim Fanny iníon Dáibhidh.

 

Siúd í an eala atá taobh le cuan,

Tá sluaite fear in éad dá grá,

’S Fanny dheas gheanúil na ndlaoi ’s na ndual

A fuair bua go minic le háille.

Nár fhága mé an saol seo go mbí mé go ceannasach

Ag damhsa go haerach ’s mé ag do bhainis-se;

Fógraím an té sin a d’iarradh aon spré leat

A Phéarla linbh na mbánghlac.

This text from Eamonn Ó Bróithe- acknowledge

Fill, a Bhruinneall

 

O fill a bhruinneall ó fill ó fill

Ó fill a chuisle ó fill ó fill

Tréigse go tapaidh an claon is an chathair

Nó titeadsa ngalar gan mhoill gan mhoill

Titeadsa i ngalar gan mhoill gan mhoill

Nó titeadsa i ngalar gan mhoill gan mhoill

Tréigse go tapaidh an claon is an chathair

Nó titeadsa i ngalar gan mhoill gan mhoill.

 

Cá hionadh mé léanmhar faoi chrá faoi chrá

‘S tusa i gcéin uaim a ghrá a ghrá

Gleann Cuilinn bhí ceolmhar anois chím faoi bhrón-bhrat

‘S mar bhliain fhada dhomsa gach lá gach lá

Mar bhliain fhada dhomsa gach lá gach lá

Mar bhliain fhada dhomsa gach lá gach lá

Gleann Cuilinn bhí ceolmhar anois chím faoi bhrón-bhrat

‘S mar bhliain fhada dhomsa gach lá gach lá.

 

Arís dá bhfeicinn thú, a rúin, a rúin,

Fé m’ dhéin ag tarraingt ded’ dheoin ded’ dheoin

Bheadh gileacht an tsamhraidh sa ngeimhreadh gan amhras

‘S mo chroí bheadh ag damhsa go subhach go subhach

Mo chroí bheadh a damhsa go subhach go subhach

Mo chroí bheadh ag damhsa go subhach go subhach

Bheadh gileacht an tsamhraidh sa ngeimhreadh gan amhras

‘S mo chroí bheadh ag damhsa go subhach go subhach.

The Shores of Lough Bran

 

Sit you down loyal comrades, sit you down for a while.

‘Til I spend my last hours in Erin’s green isle.

Come fill up your glasses and we’ll drink hand in hand,

For tomorrow I’ll be leaving the shores of Lough Bran.

 

There’s my father and mother, you can know hear them cry.

With tears bewailing, would moisten your eye.

But I will assist them, please God, if I can,

Far away from lovely Erin and the shores of Lough Bran.

 

In the incoming morning i will bid you adieu:

To Leitrim, Drumshanbo and sweet Carrick too.

But no matter what fortune I may make far away

My thoughts will be with you by night and by day.

 

My thoughts will be with you, while life’s course is spanned,

Far away from lovely Erin and the shores of Lough bran.

The Seaside

 

As I roved out by the seaside

Every rose grows merry in time

I met a wee girl and I gave her my hand 

And says I, “will you be a true lover of mine.

 

And if you are to be a true lover of mine

Every rose grows merry in time

You must make me a shirt without needle or seam

And it’s then you’ll be a true lover of mine.

 

And then you must wash it in a spring well

Every rose grows merry in time

Where the water ne’er ran nor the rain never fell

And it’s then you’ll be a true lover of mine.

 

You must dry it in a hawthorn tree

Every rose grows merry in time

That never was blossomed since Adam was born

And it’s then you’ll be a true lover of mine.”

 

“Oh now, Sir, you have questioned me three times three

Every rose grows merry in time

But I might question as many as thee

And it’s then you’ll be a true lover of mine.

 

You must get me a farm of the best land

Every rose grows merry in time

Between the salt water and the sea strand

And it’s then you’ll be a true lover of mine.

 

And then you must plough it with a goat’s horn

Every rose grows merry in time

And sow it all over with one grain of corn

And it’s then you’ll be a true lover of mine.

 

You must thrash it in a sparrows nest

Every rose grows merry in time

And shake it all out with a cobbler’s awl

And it’s then you’ll be a true lover of mine.

 

And when you are done and finished your work

Every rose grows merry in time

You can come back to me and I’ll give you your shirt

And it’s then you’ll be a true lover of mine!”

Pilib Séimh Ó Fathaigh

Aréir agus mé ag machnamh ar mhaoilinn an leasa,

Cé chífinn chugam ag tarraingt ach an tsíbhruinneall óg,
A raibh a bratchumha léi go talamh, bhí géaga léi ar leathadh.

Is a cuacha buí gan chasadh ag titim léi go feor.

D’fhiosraíosa féineach den ainnir cér díobh í nó a hainm:

‘An tú síbhean na Craige, rion Airt nó Mór?
Nó Anna Chaomh Nic Gearailt, géag dhlúth dar gcaraid,

Ata ag éileamh an mharcaigh sa mBuí-Chnoc fé bhrón?’

Shuigh taobh liom an ainnir, a haolchrobh mar an eala,

An réiltean gan ghangaid do b’aille ar bith snó.

‘A shéimh fhir a labhair’, ag géarghol is ag ceasnaighil,

‘Réifidh mé do gheasa ach suímis go fóill.
Is mé Anna Chaomh Nic Gearailt ó Dhún Aolta na Seabhac,

Mar a bhfuil tréanfhuil ag caismirt go dian ann as mo dheoidh;

Táim traochta le tamall ó bheith ag éileamh bhur mairbh,
Is é Pilib séimh ceart Ó Fathaigh fáth mo dhobhróin.

Mo léan agus mo thuirse! An séimh-fhear gan fuinneamh,

‘bheith daorsnoite i dtinneas is i bhfaoilteacha bróin,

Nó arbh fhéidir go gcuirfeadh an séithleach ortsa an cluiche?

Glaoigh feasta ar Mhic Mhuire is ar Bhanríon na hOighe.

 Beidh do chéile agus do linbh ag géar ghol go connail,
I d’éileamhsa, a Philib, is tú sínte gan treoir;
Is ma théann ort san imirt dein liom ionad coinne,
Is raghaidh mé i d’fhéachaint Lá ‘l Muire go Buí-Chnoc na sló.

Is méin liomsa feasta ar do ghaoltasa labhairt,

A shéimhfhir gan ghangaid a shíolraigh ón bpór;

Gréagaigh is Craithigh is na Paoraigh ab fhearra,

Lucht éigse do labhairt, lucht saghad agus treon.
Níl aon díobh ina mbeaththaidh a réifeadh ár ngeasa,

Glaoite as diaidh d’ainimse sa tír úd id’ dheoidh,
Ó shéanais do charaid ag dul faoi bhéil lice i nglasaibh,

Mar a chuaigh Phoebus fá scamall sa mBuí-Chnoc faoi bhrón.

O is méin liomsa feasta géilleadh do do theastas,
A bheith ag an tréanfhuil i gceannas sa mBuíchnoc, dár ndóigh.

An tAonmhac i do ghlacadh i gcomhluadar na bhFlaitheas,
Ag tabhairt saorbhreath ar t’anam is á shaoradh ó gach brón.

Beannacht Mhaighdean na bhFlaitheas ar chuais faoina brata,

Lonradh na scaball na gcros leat is na gcorón’.

Beannacht na naomh is na n-aingeal ‘s gach n-aon eile dár thaithís,

Is mo bheannacht féin leat gan ghangaid go Ríocht gheal na nGlór’.

Seoithín Seó

Lough Erne’s Shore

 

One morning as I went a fowling,

bright Phoebus adorned the plain,

It was down by the shore’s of Lough erne,

I met with this wonderful dame,

Her voice was so sweet and so charming,

these beautiful notes she did sing,

And the innocent fowl of the forest,

their love unto her they did bring.

 

It being the first time that I met her,

my heart it did leap with surprise,

I thought that she could be no mortal,

but an angel that fell from the skies’,

Her hair it resembled gold tresses,

her skin was as white as the snow,

And her lips were as red as the roses

that bloom around Lough Erne’s Shore.

 

When i found that my love was eloping ,

these words unto her I did say,

Oh , take me to your habitation,

for Cupid has led me astray,

Forever I’ll keep the Commandments;

they say that it is the best plan,,

fair maids who do yield to men’s pleasures,

the Scriptures do say that they’re wrong.

 

Oh, Mary don’t accuse me of weakness,

for treachery I do disown,

I would make you a maiden of honour,

if with me this night you’ll come home,

Oh, had I the lamp of great Aladdin,

his rings and his genie what’s more,

I would part with them all for to gain you,

and live upon Lough Erne’s shore.

Bothar Chluain Meala


Ar mo ghabháil go B’ leá Cliath dhom go dian-mhoch ar maidin,

Do casadh cailín óg orm a raibh scáil a’ rósaí ‘na leacain.

D’fhiosraigh díom an óigbhean “Cá gcónaíonn tú a mharcaigh?”

“Cónaím i dtigh lóistín ar bhothar Chluain Meala”.

“Is aithris scéal nua dhúinn ó’r tú is déanaí d’fhág an baile:

An maireann do chéile nó an raibh sí riamh agat?”
“Tá sí go tinn tréith lag, mo chiap, ar an leaba,
Is dochtúirí ní bhfaighinnse a leigheasódh a galar”

“Éist, éist a óigfhir: cá bhfios ná bhfuil marbh?
Is go ngabhaimís le chéile go deo, deo fad a mhairfeam.

Gheobhaidh tú airgead id’ phócaí is ór buí le scaipeadh,

Is mé féinig mar nóchar ag coiriú do leapan”.

“Ní thiocfadsa is tú a phosadh is mo rian stóir a sheachain(t),
Is mo leanaí beaga óga a bheith gan máthair, gan athair.
Mar tá cúram orm iad a thógaint, iad a ní is iad a ghlanadh,
Agus grá ní thabharfainn d’aon bhean eile, ach do mháthair mo leanbh.”

“Do thugas grá mór duit, ar do ghrua ‘s ar do leacain,
‘S ar do chomhrá binn béasach, atá tar éis mo chroí a chaitheamh.

Mara dtigir ‘s mé a phosadh le comhairle na sagart,

Úachtaím dom cháirdibh go bhfágfad tú marbh.”

“Mo shlán beo-sa siar chughat a ghrian-bhruinneall álainn,

Is a chailín chiúin chiallmhar ó bhruach na Siúire.
Go mbíodh na fir óga teacht iarradh le grá dhuit,
Is go mb’fhiú thú mac iarla dá thriall chughat thar sáile.

Tá mo leanaí ag béice is ag síor-ghol ó éagas.
Tá a gcuacha gan cíoradh ná suim chuir ‘na mbéile.
Tá siad ag rince le baois na díchéille agus mise siúl coillte,

‘S nach bhfaghinn dul ghá bhféachaint.”

Mo Thig Beag Aerach

Tá crainnín aonair a bhfuil air géaga

A bhriseann géar-shioc is gaoth aduaidh

Ag fás go treorach ó thráth nach eol dom

Is sásta gleoite é, gan bhréag is buan.

Tá éinín páirteach ar ghéag ina bharr san,

Is é go fáiltiúil ag labhairt ó chroí.
Is i bhfios dom féineach tá suite taobh leis,

Im thig beag aerach sa ngleann seo thíos.

Tá sruth ar m’eolas ag rith go ceolmhar

As ucht an mhórchnoic le fána anuas
A bhfuil poirt is féar glas á fhoiliú in éineacht
‘S á chur gan bhuíochas ‘na bhráighe chun cuain.

Tá an t-eas ag géimnigh ann an breac ag léimnigh

‘S an bheach ag saothrú le fonn chun tís.
Is mise i m’aonar cois tine ag éisteacht
Im thig beag aerach sa ngleann seo thíos.

Ó éirí gréine go dtéann si fé thiar
Tá a haghaidh go séimh-gheal ar m’áras féin.

Is ionúin léi mo phinniúr aolmhar,
‘S m’fhuinneog léir ghlan i lár an lae.
Is deas, gan bhréag daoibh, a thagann ré dhó,

Is í ag bailiú léi thar toinn is tír.
Níl ionad saolta chomh cluthar néata
Le mo thig beag aerach sa ngleann seo thíos.

Ní iarrfainn aoibhneas, ní iarrfainn saoirse,

Ní iarrfainn choíche caisleán ná cúirt.

Níl eolas uaimse ar ór na ar uaisleacht,
Ná ar bhóiceáil uaibhreach ag soláthar clú.

Mo thrua gach éinne tá ar thuairisc féile
Níl uaimse in aon chor mar gheall sa tír A

ch mo chrainnín aonair, mo shruth is m’éinín,

Is mo thig beag aerach sa ngleann seo thios.

An Páistín Fionn