Mo Mhuirnín Bán
You can hear Brian O Domhnaill singing this song at
http://old.tg4.ie/en/programmes/archive ... n-ban.html
MO MHUIRNÍN BÁN
Ní ar chnoc nó ar ísleacht atá mo mhiansa, ach i ngleanntán aoibhinn a mbíonn an duilliúr ag fás.
Goireann an chuach ann i gceann 'ach míosa, bíonn an chruithneacht bhuí ann is an coirce bán
Bíonn an t-uan is an lao ann, bric 'na scaoi ann, bíonn an eala aoibhinn ar an loch ag snámh
Bíonn an bheathóg críonna is a hárus déanta 'gus an mhil dhá taomadh do mo mhuirnín bán.
Tá mise tinn trélag agus ní fhéadaim inse le fiabhras tintrí mar gheall ar mná
Is gur ag mo mhuirnín fhéin atá na cúpla cruinn cíoch mar an fhaoileann bhán a bheadh ar loch ag snámh.
Nuair a théann mo ghrása ag siúl na sráide tig aoibh a gháire ar gach éinneach ann
A brollach mín geal atá ina cúpla páirteach mar bheadh an fhainleog bheag ar an nead gach lá.
Sé fáth mo bhuartha nach bhfaighim cead cuairte sa ghleanntán uaigneach a mbíonn mo ghrá
Tig im ar uachtar agus mil ar luachair 'gus i dtús an fhómhair bíos na crainn faoi bhláth.
Ní bhíonn gaoth aduaidh ann nó sneachta buan ann, is tá baile cuain ann ag long is ag bád
'S tá tuilleadh buaidh ann, níl daoirse cruaidh ann don té dhéanfadh suas lena mhuirnín bán.
Cé gurb aoibhinn an Corrshliabh i dtús an fhómhair is olc an cruth a thiocfadh air sa lá.
Nuair a shéideann an doineann ó alt na gaoithe a shiabfadh daoine amach ar an tsráid
Míle b'fhearr liom fhéin a bheith ar fhoscadh na maolchnoic ná ag seoladh buaibh ar 'ach taobh den bhán.
Ins an áit a mbíonn na torthaí craobhach, bíonn an coileach fraoich ann agus an chearc is a hál.
Taobh thall den teorann atá mo rún-searc, an mhaiseach mhómhar na gcíoch glan cruinn.
Is gurb ar an tórraimh a chuir mise eolas is d'fhiafair mé mórán fana deá-mhéin ann.
Is tuirseach brónach a bhím gach Domhnach is mé ag sileadh deora mar gur fada an lá
'Gus a Rí na Glóire cha bhím i bhfad beo, mura bhfaighidh mé póg ó mo mhuirnín bán.
Dhéanfainn m'éagaoin leatsa, a chéadghrá, dá measfainn fhéin go mbeadh maith domh ann.
Mar is tú a réab mo chroí ina mhíle píosaí 'gus d'fhág na néaltaí seo fríd mo cheann
A mhaiseach bhéasach na malaí caola is na gcurcán gléigeal atá fáinneach fionn.
Ó triall a m'fhéachaint agus mé ag feitheamh go géar leat 'gus mé cloite i ngrá le mo mhuirnín bán.
My desire is not on the hillside or on the lower, but in the delightful foliage of the foliage.
The cup flies in one 'only a month, the yellow wheat is there and the white oats
There is a lamb and a calf, a trout in a jacket, the swan's swimmer flows on the lake
The cocktail catchy is made up to the millet two times for my white maiden.
I am sick of a disaster and I do not make a fever of a thirsty because of women
It is that at my own marrow the twins are purely accurate as the white gulls that the lake would swim.
When my love goes to the street walk, she can smile at every corner of it
A bright white brilliant that is twin in pairs as the little spider would be on the nest every day.
I'm sorry I do not get a tour permit in the lonely glen that my love is
Give me a cream and a honey on rushes' until the autumn starts blooming the trees.
There is no north wind or a permanent snow, there is a harbor town at boat and boat
There is more influence, there is no hardness for anyone who would go up with his white marrow.
Although the Corrshliabh was very happy at the beginning of autumn, it would be bad to make the shape of it everyday.
When the dumbbells shout from the wind section that people would slip out on the street
I'd rather prefer to be on the shelter of the maolchnoic or by launching a win on the side of the white.
In the place where the fruit is brown, the heather cock and the hen and his honey are.
Far beyond the boundary of my secret-searcher, the beautiful of the morning of pure pure breeds.
It was the exhortation that I sent to know if I had a great deal of good faith.
I'm a sad tired every Sunday I'm silencing tears as long as I am
'For the King of Glory I will not live much, unless I get a kiss from my white maiden.
I would make my voice to you, my first love, if I thought myself that I would like it.
How do you break my heart in a thousand pieces' so these stars left my head
The sweethearted sweetheart of the mild swings and the glittering chalk that is ringish.
I tried to look carefully while I was looking forward to you and I fell in love with my white maiden.
