I am as red-faced as John. I was fairly sure I'd seen "Do bhí bean uasal" in An t-Amhrán Macarónach, but after a quick glance at the titles list of a library copy, I returned to Mudcat and said that the song wasn't there. Of course, I didn't recognise the title "The Sick Young Lover".
And I'm the first one who gave the wrong surname for the book's author. I was writing on the spot, from memory. It's rather like confusing "Robinson" and "Robertson". There is a contemporary Irish author named Liam Ó Muirthile.

And I also muddled my words when asking about the air in Bunting's collection. I know that the two bilingual versions I posted are both sung to the same air as the English language "Carrickfergus", but I was asking what is the tune called "Do Bhí Bean Uasal" in the Bunting collection.

I've been back to the library to copy the lyrics of "The Sick Young Lover" from Ó Muirithe. As Annraoi says, he gives the original spelling of the ballad sheet in the appendix and gives a transliteration (if this is quite the right term!?) to Irish Gaelic spelling in the main text. It would appear that the sheet John Moulden has is the same text as given in Ó Muirithe. I notice only a few spelling differences and these could be typos, or else different readings of unclear words on the ballad sheet.
Verse 1) Moulden: "forer", Ó Muirithe: "foreer" Irish: faraor,faraoir (woe)
Verse 2) Moulden: "gra ga", Ó Muirithe: "gra gal", Irish: grá geal (bright love)
Verse 6)Moulden: "sway", Ó Muirithe: "swag" (In this case I'd opt for John's version. Notice the loan word "svae" used in the first verse of the first lyrics I contributed. Some time ago, Annraoi had to explain the expression to me; as I understand it means to come out the best among the competition. In an Irish verse of the broadsheet as given in the appendix, the spelling is rendered "swaugh". In both verses in the main text, it's "sway".

At Alison's request, here is the standard Irish as given by Ó Muirithe:

THE SICK YOUNG LOVER

Do bhí bean uasal seal dá lua liom
Is do chuir sí suas dom, fairíor géar
Is do ghabhas le stúrach na mallaí móra,
Is gur dhein sí cuach díom i lár an tsaoil.
Dá bhfaighinnse a ceann siúd faor áirse an teampaill
Is go mbeinnse arís ar m'ábhar féin
Is anois ó táim tinn lag is ná fuil fáil ar leigheas agam,
Is gan ach mo mhuintir ag gol im' dhéidh.

I wish I had you in Carrickfergus
Agus ní fada ón áit sin baile cuain,
And I'd sail over the deepest water
I ndiaidh mo ghrá geal is í ag éalu uaim.
The seas are deep and I can't swim over,
No, nor neither do I have wings to fly,
I wish I met with some handsome boatman
To ferry over my love and I.

Is tá a fhios ag Éire nach mar gheall ar aon rud
do dhearbhaíos féin a dhéanamh di,
Ach mar gheall ar mo chéad searc do dhein mé thréigint
Agus í ag déanamh spré suas dá clann iníon.
Tá an fuacht is an teas ag gabháil le chéile,
Is an tart ní féidir liom féin a chloí,
Is go bhfuil an leabhar orm ó Shamhain go February,
Is ná beidh mé réidh leis go Féile Mhichíl.

And it's in Kilkenny it is supposed
Where the marble stones are as black as ink,
With gold and silver I will support you,
And I will sing no more 'till I get a drink;
I am always drunk and seldom sober,
Constantly roving from town to town;
Now when I'm dead and my days are over,
Come, Molly, a stór, and lay me down.

Is do shiúlas Éire is an Mhumhain le chéile,
Agus ar fad síos go dtí an áit go mbíodh mo ghrá,
Agus ní bhfuaireas aoinne ar feadh an mhéid sin
Do dhéin mé pleasin' mar Molly Bhán.
Mná na hÉireann is a dteacht le chéile,
Cé gur treason dom a lua ná a rá,
Is go b'é deir gach aoinne do chlois na scéalta
Go dtug sí an sway léi ó chontae an Chláir.

I travelled this nation in desperation,
Through Flanders and all Germany;
And in my raging and serenading
My Molly's equals I could not see.
Her golden hair and her limbs complete,
Her skin exceeds the lily fair;
It is what grieves me, that this fair one
Should take the sway from the County Clare.

Is táim tinn breoite is mo chos dheas leointe
Ó ghaibh an ógbhean tharam isteach,
Is gur iarras póigín uair nó dhó uirthí,
Is go bhfaighinn féin fóirthint ach suí lena hais.
'Ochón mo chrá, is mo chumha go dóite,
Gan an oíche romham go mbeinn pósta leat';
'Nílim fós is ní bheidh go deo leat,
For I choose to go with my own sweetheart'.

verse 6 isn't a translation of verse 5, but it's in a similar vein.
A Néill, ar bhain mé an dúshlán agus an spórt uait? Well, you can still entertain yourself comparing the three versions of Do Bhí Bean Uasal on this thread. And is there any reason to use the spelling 'déidh' in one verse and 'diaidh' in another?