The Corrs — Buachaill On Eirne song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Buachaill On Eirne" by The Corrs.
Lyrics
Buachaill ón Éirne mé is bhréagfainn féin cailín deas óg.
Ní iarrfainn bó spré léi, tá mé féin saibhir go leor
Is liom Corcaigh dá mhéid é, dhá thaobh an ghleanna, is Tír Eoghain,
Is mura n-athra' mé béasaí, is mé an t-oidhre ar chontae Mhuigheo.
Buachailleacht bó, mo leo, nár chleacht mise riamh
ach ag imirt is ag ól le hógmhná deasa fá shliabh.
Má chaill mé mo stór ní móide gur chaill mé mo chiall
Is ní mó liom do phóg ná an bhróg atá ar caitheamh le bliain.
Rachaidh mé amárach a dhéanamh leanna fán choill,
gan coite gan bád gan gráinín brach' ar bith liom,
ach duilliúir na gcraobh mar éide leaba os mo cheann
is óró, a sheacht m’anam déag thú, is tú ag féachaint orm anall.
I am a boy from Ireland and I’d coax a nice young girl,
I wouldn’t ask for a dowry with her, I’m rich enough myself,
I own Cork, big as it is both sides of the glen and Tyrone,
And if I don’t change my ways I’ll be the heir for County Mayo.
Cow herding, my Leo, I did not never practice,
But playing and drinking with new young women by the mountain.
If I lost my wealth and I don’t think I lost my sense,
And your kiss is no more to me than a show worn for a year.
My love and treasure, don’t marry the old grey man,
But marry a young man, my Leo, even though he lives but a year,
Or you’ll still be without a daughter or son above you,
Crying in the afternoon or in the morning hard.
Lyrics translation
A boy from the Erne I can coax a nice young girl.
I would not ask a cow dowry with her, I'm rich enough
I Cork for its amount, is two sides of the glen, Tyrone,
It Is not athra' I béasaí, I'm the heir of county Mayo.
Herding cows, my them, I've never been yours ever
but playing and drinking with the hógmhná nice is found on the mountain.
If I lost my dear is not a plus that I lost my sense
It Is no more to me for kissed the shoe is wearing a year.
I'll go tomorrow to make ale in the wood,
without coite without a boat without gráinín of gruel with me,
but leaf of the branches as uniform a bed over my head
is óró, to seven of my soul fifteen you, you you looking at me forth.
I am a boy from Ireland and I'd coax a nice young girl,
I wouldn't ask for a dowry with her, im rich enough myself,
I own Cork, big as it is both sides of the glen and Tyrone,
And if I don't change my ways I'll be the heir for County Mayo.
Cow herding, my Leo, I did not never practice,
But playing and drinking with new young women by the mountain.
If I lost my wealth and I don't think I lost my sense,
And your kiss is no more to me than a show worn for a year.
My love and treasure, don’t marry the old grey man,
But marry a young man, my Leo, even though he lives but a year,
Or you'll still be without a daughter or son above you,
Crying in the afternoon or in the morning hard.