Alba s touto skladbou:
Musical Gems,
An Irish Journey,
The Greatest Journey,
A New Journey,
by Seé¤ Clé¨ach Mac Domhnaill
Seal da rabhas im' mhaighdean shémh,
'S anois im' bhaintreach chaite thréth,
Mo chéle ag treabhadh na dtonn go trén
De bharr na gcnoc is i n-imigcén.
'SâŚă˛ăŹ¸ mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear,
'SâŚă˛ăŹ¸ mo Chaesar, Ghile Mear,
Suan nâŚă˛ăŹł sén nâŚă˛ăŹą bhfuaireas fén
âŚă˛ăŹł chuaigh i gcén mo Ghile Mear.
Bése buan ar buaidhirt gach lâŚă¤ąăŹ°,
Ag caoi go cruaidh 's ag tuar na ndeéŤ
Mar scaoileadh uaim an buachaill beâŚă¤ąăŹ°'S nâŚă˛ăŹł rémhtar tuairisc uaidh, mo bhréŤ.
NâŚă˛ăŹą labhrann cuach go suairc ar n骞n
Is né guth gadhair i gcoillte cnâŚă¤ąăŹ°,
NâŚă˛ăŹł maidin shamhraidh i gcleanntaibh ceoigh
âŚă˛ăŹł d'imthigh uaim an buachaill beâŚă¤ąăŹ°.
Marcach uasal uaibhreach 骝,
Gas gan gruaim is suairce sn骴h,
Glac is luaimneach, luath i ngleo
Ag teascadh an tslua 's ag tuargain treon.
Seinntear stair ar chlairsigh cheoil
's léntair ténte cé¨t ar bord
Le hinntinn ard gan chaim, gan cheâŚă¤ąăŹ°Chun saoghal is slénte d' fhaghél dom leéŤhan.
Ghile mear 'sa seal faoi chumha,
's Eire go lér faoi chl骳aibh dubha;
Suan nâŚă˛ăŹł sén nâŚă˛ăŹą bhfuaireas fén
âŚă˛ăŹł luaidh i gcén mo Ghile Mear.
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A literal translation by J. Mark Sugars 1997
Once I was a gentle maiden,
But now I am a spent, worn-out widow,
My consort strongly plowing the waves
Over the hills and far away.
He is my hero, my Gallant Darling,
He is my Caesar, a Gallant Darling;
I've found neither rest nor fortune
Since my Gallant Darling went far away.
Every day I am constantly enduring grief,
Weeping nitterly and shedding tears,
Because my lively lad has left me
And no news is told of him - alas!
The cuckoo does not sing cheerfully at noon
And the sound of hounds is not heard in nut-tree woods
Nor summer morning in misty glen
Since my lively boy went away from me.
Noble, proud young horseman,
Youth without gloom, of pleasant countenance,
A swift-moving fist, nimble in a fight,
Slaying the enemy and smiting the strong.
Let a strain be played on musical harps,
And let many quarts be filled on the table,
With high spirit, without fault, without gloom,
That my lion may receive long life and health.
Gallant Darling for a while under sorrow,
And Ireland completely under black cloacks,
I have found neither rest nor fortune
Since my Gallant Darling went far away
