Language   

Na buachaillí bána

Antoine Ó Raifteirí
Back to the song page with all the versions


OriginalTraduzione inglese da www.irishpage.com
NA BUACHAILLÍ BÁNATHE WHITE BOYS
  
A Dhonncha Brúin 's deas do chraithfinn lámh leatO, Dennis Browne I'd happily shake your hand
Agus ní le grá duit ach le fonn do ghabháilAnd not for love of you, but a desire to capture you
Cheanglóinn suas thú le rópa cnáibeI would tie you up with a hempen rope
Agus chuirfinn mo "Spír" i do bholg mór.And I'd put my spear in your big belly.
  
Mar is iomaí buachaill maith chuir tú thar sáileFor 'tis many a good lad you sent abroad
Thiocfas anall fís is cúnamh leoWhose return is envisioned along with help
Faoi chultaibh dearga agus hataí lásaWearing red uniforms and lace (trimmed) hats
'S beidh an droma Francach a' seinm leo!And the French drums playing for them!
  
A chrann duilleach, má chríondo do bhláthsa,O budding tree, if your flowers wither,
mo chreach níor dhaingnigh do fhréamhachaMy despair that your roots did not set
mar tháinig an donas orm le linn na bhFrancachBecause I despaired in the time of the French
is an t-arm Gallda ar gach uile thaobh.And the foreign armies on all sides
  
Cén bhrí an cluiche seo go dtaga an SpáinneachWhat purpose this game till the Spaniard comes
is imeoidh an pharlaímint ó chumhacht an rí,And the parliament taken from the kings control,
seo é an imirt a bhfaighidh muid sásamhHere's the play that would bring us satisfaction
beidh an talamh bán againn ar bheagán cíos'.The land will be clear to us at low rents.
  
Ag teacht an tséasúir déanfaidh muid sléachtadh,When comes the season we will slaughter,
maróidh muid céad agus dhá mhíle bó,We will kill two thousand one hundred cattle.
beidh buailí Shasana le beagán géimníThe English bulls will have little to roar about
ag teacht an tséasúir má bhíonn muid beo.When comes the season if we are alive.
  
Beidh leathar fairsing ag na gréasaithe GaelachThere will be leather aplenty for Irish shoemakers
is ní iarrfaidh muid péire orthu níos lú ná coróin,And we will not ask for a pair less than a crown,
beidh bróga againne gan Dia dá méadúWe will have shoes without God's measure
is ní íosfaidh muid béile níos mó gan feoil.And we'll not eat a meal again without meat.
  
A Johnny Gibbons mo chúig chéad slán leat,Johnny Gibbons I give you my best wishes
is fada uaim thú in sa nGearmáinYou are far away from me in Germany
is é do chroí gan chealgadh a bhí riamh le suairceasIt was your pure heart which was always joyful
ar an cnoc seo thuas tá ár gcúnamh fann.On this hill above there is faint help.
  
Tá sé dá aithris dúinn ó bhéal an údairIt is being recited to us from the author's mouth
go loiscfidh an slúp linn nár baisteadh a dhream,That the sloop will be destroyed whose crew was not baptised,
mura dtaga tú de relief orainn ins' aimsir chruatainIf you do not come to our relief in this time of hardship
is mór an truaí muid faoi bharra gleann.Great will be our misery at the head of the glenn.
  
Tá Johnny Gibbons is ár nAthair Maol'reJohnny Gibbons and our Father Mallory
agus iad á gcaomhúint amach faoin móin,They are being protected out in the bog,
faoi thart is faoi easonóir is fhuacht na hoícheThirst and dishonour and cold of the night
is níl fiú an bhraoin dí acu ná dram lena ól.They have not even a drop or a dram to drink.
  
Ní mar sin a chleacht siad ach fuíoll na bhfuíollThis is not how they lived but in abundance
agus shoraidh díofa nach dtug aire dó,And curses to them who didn't care for him,
is rímhór m'fhaitíos mura bhfuil ag íosaGreat is my fear if Jesus does not have
go mbeidh siad síos leis, agus tuilleadh leo.Them in his displeasure, and more with them.
  
Tá a fhios ag an saol nár mharaíos caoraThe world knows that I didn't kill a sheep
in san oíche is nár speir mé bó,In the night nor hamstring a cow,
Má tá i ndán is go n-éireoidh an lá linnIf from my poem we win the day
go bhfaighidh muid sásamh in san gcúis seo fós.May we be satisfied in this cause yet.
  
Bronnann muid Camas ar an Athair Maol'reWe present Camas to Father Mallory
is Baile an Mhaoil le haghaidh a bhóAnd a place of plenty for his cow
is ní bheidh muid choíche arís ár ndíbirtAnd we never again shall be banished
gan bhia gan dídean amach faoin móin.Without food or shelter out on the bog.
  
Tá bullán bacach faoi bharr an tsléibheThere is a crippled bullock on the mountain
is deir gach aon neach nach mbeidh i bhfad beo,And everyone says he will not live very long,
Coirnéal Máirtín 'tá ina cheann ar an taobh sinCoronel Martin is in charge on that side
agus measaim féin gur aige is cóir.And I believe that he deserves it.
  
Tá céad fear acu a chuir an t-airgead le chéileThere are a hundred men who put the money together
nár ghearr féith is nár ith an fheoil,Who did not cut muscle nor eat the meat,
ach, a chlann Mhig Eochagáin, má tá tú in ÉirinnBut, clann Mac Eochagan, if you are in Ireland
ná lig an léirscrios go hIorras Mór.Don't let the destruction come to Erris Mor.


Back to the song page with all the versions

Main Page

Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.




hosted by inventati.org