AN GAODHAL.
491
'Sé saint mo chroídhe agus mo ghuighe
gach am, go m-béig tír ghlas Bhanbha agus
an teanga Ghaedhilge agus ceól bhinn mhi¬
lis Chrioch Fodla, agus gach nós do bhain¬
eann le tír na h-Eireann, faoi mheas
fós agus san go luath, & atá me deimh¬
ineach go bh-fuil sibhse go léir air an aig¬
ne cheudna, (dadhmholadh 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 iomadh lá breágh aerach chaith mé air
sléibhtibh Chonn-na-mara,
Breathnúgh' air na spéiribh 's air na
reultaibh os cionn an bhaile;
Ní rabh mo shleath gleustadh, mo chloidh¬
eamh geur, no m' arm teine,
'Sa dhaoine uaisle na h-Éireann, nár bh'
olc mo ghleus le dhul a spéiruidh.
Tá 'n Créirí cur tréas orm, Dia d'a
réidhteach, agus Muire;
'Siad lucht na m-breug'dh rine 'n méid sin
'sdá bh-feudfadh dheunfadh tuileadh,
Dá ndeunfainn coir mhór, nidh nach n-
deárnadh mé riamh, no dadadh,
Ní a b-príosún Bhaile-'n-Róba bheidheadh
mo lóisdín le bheith feasda.
Ach tá duine uasal a m-Bail-an-Tóchther
is ainm dósan Mr Milier,
Fíor sgaith na fola móra, is nach fiú é
dhul d'a agairt:
Tá mo shúil-se le Rígh na ngrása, agus
le Árd Righ na bh-flaitheas,
Ó is sé ceannfuirt na cúrta é, go lig¬
fear mé féin a bhaile.
Tá mo shrian a's tá mo dhiallaid air
iasacht aig fear de'n bhaile,
Tá mo chomán is tá mo liaród a lógh¬
thúghadh faoi 'n leabadh,
Is má thagann sé 'sa saoghal go deo, deo
go ligfear mé 'bhaile,
Buailfead boc báire cho h-árd leis an
ngealaigh!
A Sheorsa bán Shémbers atá air aon
chois do sheasadh,
Go d-tiga nach g-cuirir sgeuladh cia 'n
chaoi a bh-fuilir?
Tabhair sgeul aig mo mháthairín, tá tinn
bnónach air a leabadh,
Go bh-fuil an róipín caol cnáibe le dhul
ann áit mo charabhata!
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
Cappachárnáin
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 TAIBHSE.
Air — Youghal Harbor.
II
Oidhch' d'a rabh mé a d-trá na Bealtaine,
Bhain seachrán fán dam mar gheall air
mhnaoi,
Bhí an oidhche dorcha 's é tosúgh' báistigh,
A's bhí sé an trá sin air uair an naoi;
Tháinic crich' orm 's faitchíos mór eagla
Agus nídh nár náir dam, do gheit mo
chroidhe,
Óir budh geárr go bh-faca mé an fear
gan snáithe,
'Sa chloidhmhe tharraingtha ó chúl a chinn. —
II
Casadh an Tais orm a m-bheul na beár¬
na
