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Siobhán Ní Dhuibhir (traid.)

D'éirigh mé ar maidin a tharraingt chun aonaigh mhóir, 
A dhíol is a cheannach mar a dhéanadh mo dhaoine romham. 
Bhuail tart ar an mbealach mé, 's shuigh mise síos ag ól,
Is le Siobhán Ní Dhuibhir gur ól mise luach na mbróg.


A Siobhán Ní Dhuibhir an miste leat mé bheith tinn? 
Mo bhrón is mo mhilleadh nár mhiste liom tú bheith i gcill. 
Bróinte 'gus muilte bheith 'scileadh ar chúl do chinn 
Ach cead a bheith in Iorras go dtara síol Éabha chun cinn.


A Siobhán Ní Dhuibhir, is tú bun agus barr mo scéil 
Ar mhná na cruinne gur thug sise an báire léi. 
Le gile, le finne, le maise, 's le dhá thrian scéimh, 
Is nach mise an trua Mhuire 's mé 'scaradh amárach léi.

06 Siobhan Ni Dhuibhir
00:00 / 01:51

I got up in the morning and off to the big fair I went,
Buying and selling as my forefathers used to do.
I was hit by the thirst and I sat down to drink my fill
And it's with Siobhán Ní Dhuibhir that I drank the cost of new shoes 

Oh Siobhán Ní Dhuibhir, do you want me to be unwell?
My sorrow and my ruin that I didn't want you in a cell.
That sorrow and ruin may fall on your own sweet head (gist of what's meant)
But to be allowed to be in Erris till the seed of Eve has grown. (?!)

Oh Siobhán Ní Dhuibhir, you're the start and the end of my tale
Of all the women of the world that she'd be the number one.
With brightness, with fairness, ornate and with two thirds beauty,
Pity for me that tomorrow I'll be leaving her.


Now here's a translation the computer did on its own!:

In the morning I did a drawing for large fairs, 
A buy and sell as dhéanadh me my people. 
Met on the way I thirst, 's I sat down drinking,
Siobhan is a drink that I'm not Dhuibhir the mbróg value. 

A Siobhán Ní Dhuibhir the miste you become ill I? 
My sympathies and my mhilleadh I did not want you to be in Kilkenny. 
Brónna 'gus mills being' on the back of your heads scileadh 
But permission to be in Erris dtara promote seed Éabha 

A Siobhan Dhuibhir not, you are up and top my story 
For women the world that she says gave her the place. 
With brightness, with Finne, by mass, 's with two-thirds of beauty, 
Yours is not the unfortunate Lady 's I' separating it tomorrow.

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