Taobh Thall De Chlaí na Teorann
Beyond the Mearing Wall

On yonder side of the mearing wall,
My love dwells,
She has in her a drop of the gentlest blood,
The affliction of my heart!
Were I in England, and she in Spain
I'd fly with her without dowry,
My pearl of the white breast.

A pity I'm not a sailor,
Or a captain in a ship,
And my beautiful white flower,
On the top of Mauslin.
I would kiss her and coax her,
She's the pearl of brown hair
And oh! what a sweet reward 'twould be,
If she would fly away with me.

My love promised me a dowry,
A thousand and a hundred kine.
And she promised me, in addition,
That she would build me a big house.
The cows would be a lowing,
And the little calves a sucking.
Oh! pearl of the white breast,
With you I left my love.

On the rising of the sun,
The moon disappears,
And a year ago tomorrow
I was walking down the glens.
I would ask of the High King of Heaven,
Were I only to live a month,
To lead her for one night's lodgings
Within the floor of my house.

A ‘Mearing’ wall is the boundary marking the divide between two neighbouring lands.

Suantraí
Lullaby

Shoheen shoho, my child is my treasure,
My jewel without guile, my share of the world,
Shoheen shoho, how great is the delight,
My little treasure in his bed, asleep without sorrow.
Child of my bosom, may thy sleep thrive you,
Happiness and luck be ever in store for you.
May the blessings of God's Son and the love of his nurse be with you,
Go to sleep without start until day.

On the Hill of Sidhe are fairies shining
Under the fair moon of spring playing their games. 
And they come eastward to call to my child,
Wishing to lure him into the great fort.
I call thee, my heart!
They shall not entice you
By dint of their tricks, or the sweetness of their music,
I am by your side praying for you blessings,

Shoheen shoho, my child you will not go with them. 

Before my darling, sweet and gentle,
Kind angel eyes are gaing upon him
With great strong love inviting him away,
For Heaven would be more delightful if he were to go with them.
Treasure of my heart! lie down in thy bed,
Beside your Mamma you still will abide
God does not grudge me my play and my pleasure,
My Heaven on earth along with my darling.

A lullaby which was well known in Belclare, North Galway  and handed down to Bríd by her father, Jimmy.  According to Bean Mhic Choisdealbha,  the words were composed by Prof.  T. O’Kelly of University College, Galway.

An Raicín Álainn
The Beautiful Comb

One fine day as I went down the road
I met a young girl who was stripping cows by the roadside;
I give you my word that the rose was in her cheeks,
She brushed by me to Eochaill (Youghal) at the cutting of the yellow harvest.

I was artful enough to promote the merriment,
We went to the tavern for a while, and of course we sat down.
We had punch and wine on the counter,
And I had to pay the score,
And he went adown the road from me - and my comb below his pocket.

'And am I not the sad woman, my darling O?' said she,
'No cheer nor laughter will I have till he comes this road again.
My hair is falling in ringlets, - I have nothing to fix it up,
Since I lost my beautiful little comb which sat up behind in my hair'

He will come this road tomorrow and welcome him right well,
Arrange a wooden chair for him in the middle of the floor.
Take the hat from off his head - be not ashamed of him.
And you'll find the beautiful little comb which used to be up behind in my hair.

A chance meeting along the road, merriment in the tavern leads to the loss of this maid’s ‘raicín álainn’  – leaving her hair in dishevelment and faint hope of the return of the lively young man!

Slán agus Beannacht 
Goodbye and Farewell

'One morning in June, as I went awalking,
I met with a maiden and sweet was her countenance.
She was so handsome I fell in love with her. 
And she sent a pang right through my heart
I axed her her name or what happy fit was it,
That turned you into this place, bright love of my heart.
My heart it will break if you don't come along with me,
Good-bye and farewell to the troubles of the world.'

'Well I'm a little young girl from the coast district,
And I was honestly reared in the beginning of my life,
I being so airy, for so I was accustomed,
Which made my own parents and me disagree'
'Well my pulse and my treasure, if you'd listen to me for a while
I'd tell you a story that would charm you heart,
That I'm a young man that’s doughtily in love with you,
And surely my heart is from roguery free'

'Go, you  bowld (bold) rogue, sure you're wanting to plater (flatter) me,
A bird in the hand is worth two in the branch,
I have neither wheat, potatoes, nor anything,
Nor as much as a blanket to put over us at night.'
'I will buy tea for you, and a fine dress in addition,
A gown of English cotton of the fashion that is dear,
So powder your hair, love, and come away 'long with me,
Good-bye and farewell to the troubles of the world.'

'There's an ale-house nearby and we'll be there until morning,
If you are satisfied bright love of my heart;
Early next morning we'll send for a clergyman,
And we'll be united unknown to the world.'
'We will be drinking as long as the money lasts
And then we'll take the road home with all speed,
When the reckoning is paid, who cares for the landlady?
Good-bye and farewell to the troubles of the world.'

This bi-lingual verse in the collected songs of Amhráin Mhuighe Seóla,  was contributed by Martin Burke of Tuam at the turn of the century and was widely sung in the locality.  A roguish story of elopement and love, promises of fine clothes and good things, the young lover entices the ‘cailín beag óg’  into the charms of the moment and a promise of a ‘clergyman’ to witness their union.

Bridín Bhéasaigh
Breedeen Vesey

I'd marry Breedeen Vesey
Without coat, boot or mantle;
Treasure of my heart, if I could,
I would fast for you nine times,
Without food or drink or anything,
On an island in Loch Erne,
Hoping that you and I might be together
Until we settled our case.
O cheek of the colour dog-berry,
O cuckoo of the top of the mountain,
Do not belie your promise,
But rise up with the day.
And in spite of the law of the clergy
I'd take you for my spouse.
And, Oh God! what a charming tale 'twould be,
A man stealing away with his love.

My heart leapt with trouble,
And I frightened nine times,
That morning I heard
That you were not to be found before me.
And all the days of merriment
That you and I spent in solitude,
Without any one guarding us
But the jug, and it on the table.
If I could find out news of you,
If you were to go to the foot of the Reek (Croagh Patrick);
The story would go very hard with me,
Or I should cling to my love.
And I should rather be stretched beside you,
With nothing under us but heath and rushes,
Than be listening to the cuckoos
Who are moving at the break of day.

The reason of my moans and my lamenting
Every early morning that I arise,
O cool of the curls and the pearls,
Is, that it is not you who were fated for me;
And I would not ask with you, for a faireen (present),
Anything but you and me be together
In some place alone,
So that I might lay my hand on thine (thee).
I would play music upon strings
With the top of my fingers;
I would forsake all the women of Erin for you,
And I would follow you through the ocean.
And if I were king of Greece,
Or a prince over hundreds,
I would give up all that
To the pearl of white breast.

From Raftery, An File (The Poet) – a love song. 

When stubble lands were greening
You came among the stooks,
And grace was in your feet then
And love was in your looks
In your cheeks the rose grew redder
And your hair in clusters lay
And I would be lived together
Or together slip away.

I had a dream on Wednesday
That bitter was the frost
And I saw my love lamenting
At dawn that I was lost
Me thought I came beside her
And held her tenderly
And all Éirinn (Ireland) defied then
To part my love and me.

My curse on him is spoken
Who keeps my love from me
And swears that to our courting
He never will agree
For though skies should send the deluge
Or the snowy north its flakes
We two could live as pleasant
As the swans upon the lake

The seagull’s heart is merry
When the fish is in its beak
And the eel within Lough Erne
Can swim from creek to creek
And I spoke tripping Gaelic
And merry songs I’ve sung
But now my wits are crazy
And leaden is my tongue.

In her 1918 foreword to the collection Amhráin Mhuighe Seola, Bean Mhic Choisdealbha paid tribute to the Rev. Dean Malachy Eaton of Maynooth who along with his “numerous helpers… took upon himself the whole burden of correction and translation”  The  version from the book is sung here  as a tribute to the work of the Dean and the unknown translators.

As I and a young maid were one day going the road,
We brought the summer with us.
Whom should we meet but an Gruagach Cróga
We brought the summer…

Summer, summer, milk for the calves,
We brought the summer…..

  He asked if that young woman were my daughter. 
We brought the summer…
'Indeed then she isn't, she's my love and my treasure'. 
We brought the summer ….

'Have I your permission to discourse with her a while'?
We brought the summer….
If you do not do that I'll go to court 
We brought the summer…….

'Take you the shortcut, and I'll go the road;
We brought the summer….
Whichever of us she follows, let him have her forever'.
We brought the summer…

'I'll follow the Gruagach, for a nice young man he is',
We brought the summer…..
'May you never return to me alive or well
We brought the summer….

'Many a cow crosses the boundary fence,
We brought the summer….
Taking possession of the neighbour's property,
We brought the summer……

She came to me again in the evening.
We brought the summer…..
And brought with her an excuse the most plausible,
We brought the summer…

But I could not listen to talk of that kind.
We brought the summer…
I left her there weeping and sorrowful.
We brought the summer……

Bean Mhic Choisdealbha traced the source of this song in her collection from Milltown, Galway, back to Mayo.  It sings of “bringing the summer with us” as mischievous events occur along the road between a gruagach  ( a shabby / unkempt  character),  and a young man, who tells the story  of his wayward sweetheart who follows the gruagach but returns later in tears. It is in all probability an “amhráin saothair”  - verses sung while at work.

Oileán Éadaigh
Islandeady

In Islandeady my first love's grave is,
My heart I gave her when I was young;
To hear the wailing of her three lone babies,
Sure none can please them, my heart is wrung.
I'm weak and weary, I may as well say it,
A shadow fading with grief and woe,
My heart is aching, why did you leave me,
A Vourneen Dheelish (My Dearly Beloved),
In the clay ochone (my sorrow) ?

Her face was fairest, her footstep airy,
No girl in Erin of equal grace,
Her bosom heaving, to her baby cleaving,
But I could not save her from cruel fate.
To me far dearer 'twas to be near her,
Than all the pleasures of the world wide;
Than King George's gold store, and that twice over,
But beneath the green sod we've left my bride.

The original Oileáin Éadaigh, Islandeady, stands between two lakes on the road from Castlebar to Westport. The song, which is closely related to the Sail Óg Rua, is that of a father singing a lament to his children on the loss of their mother who lies buried in the cemetery at Oileáin Éadaigh. A story is handed down in Mayo that the dead woman’s relatives believed her husband was to blame for her death. Yet when they arrived at the cottage door with revenge in their hearts, they were so moved by his song that they went away.

Go dTagfaidh an Nollaig
'Til Christmas Come

Till Christmas come in the middle of summer,
Till I make a swift race through the depths of Loch Reagh,
Till shamrocks shall grow on the boards of my coffin,
No part of your fond love will fade from my heart.

  My grief on this love! 'tis a mournful disease.
It has left my poor heart as black as the coal.
It has left my poor head without one ounce of sense there,
And my airy spirit departing from me.

Bríd’s Aunt, Síle Canney, won a prize for singing this in a Feis Cheoil in Galway as a young girl and remembered it to Bríd. Her version was the same as collected by Bean Mhic Choisdealbha from Síle’s neighbour in Bailedoite,  Belclare, Mrs Maggie Hession  – containing only two verses.

Moll Dubh an Ghleanna
Dark Moll of the Glen

On the mountain I have a cow,
And have herded her for long,
Till  a fair maiden stole my reason.
I lead her to and fro,
Wherever the sun goes,
Until she returns in the evening.

Chorus
She is dark Moll of the Glen,
She is dark Moll of the Spring,
She is dark Moll, redder than the rose,
And did I get my choice of the world's prettiest women,
It is dark Moll of the glen I'd prefer.

Whenever I look around me
At the place where my treasure is,
A stream of tears flows from my eyes.
O, bright God of Might, relieve my misery,
For it is the dark woman of the glen that has destroyed me.

Chorus

Yonder is my house
With no covering but sods of earth,
Built on the road-side - How wise of the bee to build up her hive
In the heat and sunlight of Autumn.