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Three Sean-Nos Folk Songs

Ross Crean
10/09/2018
Ross Crean

Lyrics

A chuisle mo chroi

 

Ar maidin indé roimh ghréin go moch, 

Do dhearcas an bhé ba néimhe cruth:

Bhi sneachta ‘gus caor 

A’ caismirt ’n-a sgéimh,

‘Sa seangachorp séimh mar ghéis ar sruth

’S a chuisle mo chroi, créad ín ghruaim sin ort?

 

Ba bhinne guth caomh a béil le sult

Ná Orpheus do léig go faon na tuirc:

Bhi a reamhar-rosg réidh

Mar chriostal na mbraon

Ar sheamair ghlais fhéir roimh ghréin go moch-

’S a chuisle mo chroi, créad ín ghruaim sin ort?

 

Before the sun rose yesterday morning,

I met a fair maid down the lawn:

The berry and snow

Brought a glow to her cheeks,

And her bosom was fair as the sailing swan.

Then, pulse my heart, what gloom is thine?

 

Her beautiful voice had won more hearts

Than Orpheus’ ancient lyre had done.

Her ripe blue eyes

Were crystals of dew

On the grass of the lawn before the sun.

And, pulse of my heart, what gloom is thine?

 

Ross Crean
10/09/2018
Ross Crean

Lyrics

Ó sí rún mo chléibh bhí ann (Aisling Song)

 

Lá dá rabhas sa choill úd thall,

Chonaic a spéirbhean claon-rosc mall,

Slat ‘na láimh ‘sí cumhra seang,

Ó sí rún mo chléibh bhí ann.

 

D’in-seoinn dreach mo leann-áin duit,

Dhá ghrua dhearg’ chomh dearg le fuil,

Béal gan locht ag aithris scéil,

Ó sí rún mo chléibh bhí ann.

 

Fol í ó hó ró, fol í ó,

Hú il ó hó ró, hú il ó,

Fol il é li hú il ó ró,

Ó sí rún mo chléibh bhí ann.

 

One day when I was in the wood,

I saw and gazed at a beautiful woman,

A rod in her hand, she was fragrant and slim,

Oh she was my dear love.

 

I would like to describe my love to you,

Two rouged cheeks as red as blood,

A perfect mouth that could never lie,

Oh she was my dear love.

 

Fol ee o ho ro fol ee oh,

Hoo eel oh ho re, hoo eel oh,

Fol ee eh lee hoo eel oh ro,

Oh she was my dear love.

 

Ross Crean
10/09/2018
Ross Crean

Lyrics

Fear a’ bháta

 

Théid mé suas ar an chnoc is airde,

Féach an bhfeic mé fear an bháta.

An dtig thú anocht, nó an dtig thú amárach?

Nó muna dtig thú idir is trua atá mé.

 

A fhir an bháta, is na hó-ró eile,

Mo shoraidh slán leat gach áit a dtéid thú.

 

Tá mo chroíse briste, brúite,

Is tric na deoir a rith bho mo shúilean.

An dtig thú inniú nó am bidh mé dúil leat,

Nó an druid mé an doras le osna thuirseach?

 

A fhir an bháta, is na hó-ró eile,

Mo shoraidh slán leat gach áit a dtéid thú.

 

Thug mé gaol dhuit is chan fhéad mé athrú,

Cha gaol bliana, is cha gaol ráithe,

Acht gaol ó thoiseacht, nuair bhá mé ‘mo pháiste,

’s nach seasc a choíche mé ‘gus chloigh an bás mé.

 

A fhir an bháta, is na hó-ró eile,

Mo shoraidh slán leat gach áit a dtéid thú.

 

 

 

 

I went up to the highest hill,

To see if I could find the boatman.

Will you be coming tonight, or will you come tomorrow?

I shall be sad if you do not come either way.

 

Oh boatman, and it’s hó-ró ela,

My fond farewell to you every place that you go.

 

My heart is broken and weary,

The tears run quick from my eyes,

Will you be coming today, 

or whatever time you wish,

Or will I shut the door with a tired sigh?

 

Oh boatman, and it’s hó-ró ela,

My fond farewell to you every place that you go.

 

I have had a relationship with you that I cannot change,

Not one for a year, nor of prosperity,

But from the beginning when I was a child, 

I wasn’t a barren bride, and I will be true to death.

 

Oh boatman, and it’s hó-ró ela,

My fond farewell to you every place that you go.