An Draighnean Donn

One of Chris' favourite airs, it was a song Sorcha ní Ghuairim recorded in the 1940s.

 

An Draighnean Donn

Síleann céad fear gur leo féin mé nuair a ólaim leann.

Ach théid a dhá trian síos díom nuair a smaoinim ar a gcomhrá liom.

Sneachta séite is é ag síorchur ar Shliabh Uí Fhloinn

is tá mo ghrá-sa mar bhláth na n-úirne ar an droighneán donn.

 

Fear gan chéill a bheadh ag dréim leis an chraobh 'tá ard

is an crann beag íseal le na thaobh sin ar a leagfadh sé lámh.

Cé gur ard é an crann caorthainn bí sé searbh os a bharr

is fásfaidh sméara is bláth s craobh ar an chrann is ísle bláth.

 

Ní bean buclaí ná bean ribín a d'fhóirfeadh dom

ach gearrchaile gruama a bhí dóna dubh.

Maighre na gcuirnín is í a thógfadh mo chroí.

Is tá mo chéadsearch agus ní féidir mo chumha a chloí.

 

Ma thig t choíche tar san oíche go cúl an tí

trathnóna go moch ar maidin nuair a bheas an drocht ina luí.

Cé nach labhrainn bím ag meabhradh go mór fé mo chroí.

Tá mé buartha fé mo mhuirnín agus níor liom é.

 

http://www.angelfire.com/ri/domhan/ceolta.html


The Brown Thorned Bush

 

I am lately captivated by a handsome young man

And I'm sadly complaining of my own darling John,

I am roaming all day until night-time comes on

To be sheltered by the green leaves of my Droignean(?) Donn.

 

Next day I'll get a Fairing from that handsome young man

Twenty sweet kisses from my own darling John,

Consume them(?) confuse them that say I'm not true

Through the green groves and valleys I'll wander for you.

 

My love is fairer than a fine summer's day

His breath is far sweeter than the fresh mown hay,

His hair shines like bright gold, it revives(?) by the sun,

His skin like the blossoms of the Droignean(?) Donn.

 

Oh, I wish I had a small boat, on the ocean I'd row

I'd follow my darling wherever he'd go.

I'd rather have that young man to love sport and play

Than all the gold and treasures between land and sea.

 

So, come all you pretty fair maids, get married in time

To some handsome young man who will keep up your prime,

Beware of the winter evening, cold breezes come on

Consuming the early(?) blossom of the Droignean(?) Donn.

 

[Typewritten note in lower right: "Mrs. Cissie Bailie, The Old Barracks, Hackballscross, Dundalk."]

 

Langan slow airs | Move Your Fingers

1/28/2002