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The Big River

One hundred blessings to the Big River and my sorrow without me tonight by its side
And so many small lonely roads running between me and it
In the place where young play sport and the pastimes of the night
The jug on the table and my little love choosing a wide veil
 
But only that for my youth and lack of sense I'd spend my life happily
Or escape overseas with Máire in the midnight hour
When we were refused by Mr. Burke in the city of saints
And he left wander me wandering not knowing where I'd sleep the night
 
As long as I'm alive in Ireland I'll never forsake playing nor drinking
As long as I'm alive in Ireland I'll never forsake the feebleness of a young woman
As long as I'm alive in Ireland, oh, I'll bang the jug on the table
And a hundred blessings to you, my beloved darling, and who would say you're not mine alraedy
 
And my mother is all alone at the jetty
Sighing and lamenting from night to day
Her friends are laid to rest in Kilbride and a head stone on their grave
And her son all over the country playing and capering with women
 
My big coat is torn, woe is me, and it's falling down on me
And the person who'd bring justice to my sorrow is far out of my way
And person who'd get a kiss from my little love, I'm by his side
That he get a nosebleed or that his friend form the country be strong
 
My heels are cut and I don't feel the pain my side
Pickin up and putting down the this bags on my back
But If I were with my mother in the place I can relax
I'd have the eye of the King of Grace and I'd be short of nothing but a bit of time from life
 

The Little Priest

Isn't he a great little priest, the love of my life
Aren't his congregation blessed
He has a brand from the Virgin Mary and a seal from Christ
And he's trying to go to college
 
This night is dark and cold
And it's weighing heavily on my heart
My love left me and is nowhere to be found
And it will weigh on me until I die
 
Oh, listen, nice girl and don't shed a tear
Because I wasn't made for you nor any woman alive
But I'll baptise your child for you with the help of god
If I could undo it all I'd be yours
 
And I came last night to yonder door
And I let out a whistle to my true love
Her father told me she wasn't there
Because she was spending the night with the white boy
 
It's a shame that my beloved darling is without me
Aboard a ship wandering far
The tide flowing in and the tide flowing out
Without my people knowing if we were there
 
And if my little mother was a woman of the house
Oh, she'd make the beds for us at the head of the house
I'd be allowed to come and go as I please
And to court the love of my heart
 
Oh, I'm not sick but I'm not healthy
Is what my people said until they die
God and Christ what a shame
To be in love with a woman and to night find her by side
 

Bríd Thomáis Mhurchadha / Bríd, daughter of Thomas Murphy

Bríd has a garden, smooth and sweet, on the other side of the stone wall
Apples grow on trees there that are harvested twice a year
The bees have honeyed roses every where I go
and Bríd shakes brown sugar on every food she tastes.
 
Oh Bríd of (many) friends, understand now it’s not play.
I thought I’d tempt you with the nice, quiet/sweet, flattery from my mouth.
Oh my heart gave you love, don’t do the opposite and reject me.
My love for you is so much greater than for all the nicest girls in the world
 
Bríd’s kiss is sweeter than all the waters of Loch (lake) Éirne,
or the finest wheat that is milled with the sweetest bee’s honey.
Her neck is brighter than the swan that rests in the nest.
Your sweet rosy mouth has tempted hundreds of men.
 
I would go to Galway to buy me an apple garden,
and [I would buy] ships on seas to make sport.
On my returning from Sligo with a small help/hint from the wind
ah devil I’d not rest on the way until I’d taste your kiss my love
 
If I’m empty, I swear that would be a big story,
with so many nice women that gave joy to the glory of my mouth.
If it was frosting, and snowing, everywhere under the sky
but with you beside me I wouldn’t feel life’s sorrows.
 
Oh Bríd, Oh, I praise the top with you
with brightnest, with blondness, with loviness, and with peaceful beauty,
your tidy head of hair with it folded into a golden plait
it would give light to anyone without vision [blind].
 
Oh only son of Mary, that put the holly growing through the grass,
aren’t I the true Mary [compares himself to Mary’s sorrows] with my losing my limbs because of love.
If it is in our destiny that we are not to be together
you be a candle and I’ll be a moth.
 

Neainsín Bhán / Blonde Nancy

Neainsín Bhán, who do you prefer another man or myself?
Neainsín I fancied you ahead of any other woman in the world.
I thought you more beautiful than any woman ever in life.
Any person that wouldn’t praise you to me would be crazy (literally:not a word in his head).
 
If you go to the market take with you the sheep and the lamb.
If you are settling down have what you desire first.
Oh, she should be noble, honest, and praised by her reputation.
It’s not great wealth that will have you settled, nor be tempted by a tramp.
 
If my shoes had good heels and tops, and the soles in good repair,
wouldn’t I go every Sunday to the place where there is fun.
And the young people wouldn’t hold against me every step and shape I’d do.
And if my love was on top of a stool, I wouldn’t feel the night passing.
 
Isn’t it a pity that coming near Christmas I’m still constantly planting in the soil.
Like a hawk would be on top of a hawthorn tree or the green top of a raspberry.
But my curse forever on anybody alive or Earth
who would resent me whispering to the beautiful love of my heart.
 
But, my love, you can’t not find anybody
who would wash your clothes for you, or kneed your bread.
But my pearl who is beautiful from breast to foot to hand
it is my regret that I’m not on the hill/moor with you and every other great man envious of us.