Sweet Lios Buí Mór

Domhnall Ó Luasa

Tá Lios Buí i ndeisceart Chill na Martra agus b’é An Poet ó Lios Buí a scríobh. Is é Parthalán Ó Conaill, nó Dinny Denis ó Chnocán an Bhóthair idir Lios Buí Beag agus Lios Buí Mór an D.D. a luaitear san amhráin seo agus in amhrán eile de chuid An Poet, An Botháinín Íseal Gan Fálthas.

Foinse: The Songs of Elizabeth Cronin (Dáibhí Ó Cróinín)

One morning in the month of June,
as Sol’s bright beams the air illum’ed,
My cattle from the bawn I drove,
and then stretched at my ease.
The skylark sang melodiously,
a lovely lass appeared to me,
Down by the turbary
in sweet Lios Buí Mór.

When I saw this maid approaching me
my heart rose to a height of glee,
I stood with great alacrity
to accost this comely maid.
She says: ‘Kind sir, I’m going astray;
please, now, would you show me the way
That leads to the weaver’s house
in sweet Lios Buí Mór?’

When I beheld this charming maid,
my heart began to palpitate,
My eyes began to dazzle
and her figure I could not state.
She was loaded with some balls of thread,
the same she had upon her head,
Passing by the turbary
in sweet Lios Buí Mór.

‘Come along, my pretty maid,
don;t be of me the least afraid;
I’ll lead you through this rugged place
you never went before.
Your guardian I will surely be,
until that fair man’s face you’ll see,
Down by the turbary
in sweet Lios Buí Mór.

There is no human being
in showing the way can surpass me;
I know it from my infancy,
so come along, a stóir,
Or if you will abide with me,
I’ll always style you grá mo chroí,
Here by the turbary
in sweet Lios Buí Mór’.

She soon replied: ‘Indeed, I won’t;
you are a scheming, naughty rogue!
So please desist from flattery
with a simple, honest maid.
But if you’re inclined to show the way,
then come along, don’t me delay,
Down by the turbary
in sweet Lios Buí Mór’.

What she said I did excuse,
her request I could not refuse,
As we walked along together
she this to me did say:
‘Where lives the man they call “D.D.”?
his residence I’d like to see,
Down by the turbary
in sweet Lios Buí Mór’.

‘The truth to you I will relate:
I do not wish to see his face;
The reason, too, I’ll tell to you:
’tis early in the day.
For if he’d see us two alone,
a song for us he would compose,
Down by the turbary
in sweet Lios Buí Mór’.

‘To do his best, what can he say –
are we not honest going the way?
Besides, he has the tendency
never to dispraise.
But if another man were in my shoes
he’d spoil your thread, both warp and woof,
Down by the turbary
in sweet Lios Buí Mór’.

When this I said, without delay,
upon my word! she ran away!
In vain I tried to follow her
through flat and steeplechase.
No roe-buck in the park so quick could lep
beyond each ceap and ditch
As she did through the turbary
In sweet Lios Buí Mór!

And as she was too smart for me,
though I ran with great rapidity,
I was troubled with the dint of speed
and topsy-turvy thrown.
Ere again on ground my foot I lay
At least, from the turbary
in sweet Lios Buí Mór

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