AN GAOḊAL.
491
'Sé saint mo ċroíḋe agus mo ġuiġe
gaċ am, go m-béig tír ġlas Ḃanḃa agus
an teanga Ġaeḋilge agus ceól ḃinn ṁi¬
lis Ċrioċ Fodla, agus gaċ nós do ḃain¬
eann le tír na h-Eireann, faoi ṁeas
fós agus san go luaṫ, & atá me deiṁ¬
ineaċ go ḃ-fuil siḃse go léir air an aig¬
ne ċeudna, (daḋṁolaḋ mór.
On concluding his address Father Fitzgerald
was highly applauded, and warmly thanked by the
chairman, Graham McAdam Esqr. who declared
that he never before had the pleasure of hearing
an address in the Irish Language.
(We are indebted to Prof. Lovern, Scranton, Pa
for this song. We hope that all who know any
such songs will send them along. We are desirous
to publish all those songs which never appeared
in print.)
SEORSA SÉMBERS.
or
"An Róipín caol Cnáibe."
Is iomaḋ lá breáġ aeraċ ċaiṫ mé air
sléiḃtiḃ Ċonn-na-mara,
Breaṫnúġ' air na spéiriḃ 's air na
reultaiḃ os cionn an ḃaile;
Ní raḃ mo ṡleaṫ gleustaḋ, mo ċloiḋ¬
eaṁ geur, no m' arm teine,
'Sa ḋaoine uaisle na h-Éireann, nár ḃ'
olc mo ġleus le ḋul a spéiruiḋ.
Tá 'n Créirí cur tréas orm, Dia d'a
réiḋteaċ, agus Muire;
'Siad luċt na m-breug'ḋ rine 'n méid sin
'sdá ḃ-feudfaḋ ḋeunfaḋ tuileaḋ,
Dá ndeunfainn coir ṁór, niḋ naċ n-
deárnaḋ mé riaṁ, no dadaḋ,
Ní a b-príosún Ḃaile-'n-Róba ḃeiḋeaḋ
mo lóisdín le ḃeiṫ feasda.
Aċ tá duine uasal a m-Bail-an-Tóċṫer
is ainm dósan Mr Milier,
Fíor sgaiṫ na fola móra, is naċ fiú é
ḋul d'a agairt:
Tá mo ṡúil-se le Ríġ na ngrása, agus
le Árd Riġ na ḃ-flaiṫeas,
Ó is sé ceannfuirt na cúrta é, go lig¬
fear mé féin a ḃaile.
Tá mo ṡrian a's tá mo ḋiallaid air
iasaċt aig fear de'n ḃaile,
Tá mo ċomán is tá mo liaród a lóġ¬
ṫúġaḋ faoi 'n leabaḋ,
Is má ṫagann sé 'sa saoġal go deo, deo
go ligfear mé 'ḃaile,
Buailfead boc báire ċo h-árd leis an
ngealaiġ!
A Ṡeorsa bán Ṡémbers atá air aon
ċois do ṡeasaḋ,
Go d-tiga naċ g-cuirir sgeulaḋ cia 'n
ċaoi a ḃ-fuilir?
Taḃair sgeul aig mo ṁáṫairín, tá tinn
bnónaċ air a leabaḋ,
Go ḃ-fuil an róipín caol cnáibe le ḋul
ann áit mo ċaraḃata!
George Chambers, the hero of this song was
hanged in the Ballinrobe jail, on the evidence of
an informer named Creary, who must have been
an ancester of James Carey. I am not aware of
the author's name, but it is a great favorite with
the old people of the neighborhood where the ev¬
ent transpired. Mrs. Gibbons of
Cappaċárnáin
and now of this city, is a relative of Chambers,
She is now 80 years of age. There may be more
verses in the song but these are all the old lady
sings, from whon I copied it.
Yours,
M. J. LOVERN.
Mr. Martin P. Ward has sent us the following
as a part of Sweeney’s Ghost Song. Sweeney was
looked upon as the Poet of West Connaught. The
Ghost, it is said, consisted of the figure-head of a
ship stuck in a gap by Sweeney’s brother, who hid
in a bush beside it and responded to the interrog¬
atories of the bard, he being, it is presumed, in a
boozy mood at the time. Mr. Ward states that
there are some fourteen verses of this song : and
we hope some of our readers, knowing them, will
send them for publication.
AN TAIḂSE.
Air — Youghal Harbor.
II
Oiḋċ' d'a raḃ mé a d-trá na Bealtaine,
Ḃain seaċrán fán dam mar ġeall air
ṁnaoi,
Ḃí an oiḋċe dorċa 's é tosúġ' báistiġ,
A's ḃí sé an trá sin air uair an naoi;
Ṫáinic criċ' orm 's faitċíos mór eagla
Agus níḋ nár náir dam, do ġeit mo
ċroiḋe,
Óir buḋ geárr go ḃ-faca mé an fear
gan snáiṫe,
'Sa ċloiḋṁe ṫarraingṫa ó ċúl a ċinn. —
II
Casaḋ an Tais orm a m-ḃeul na beár¬
na
