THE GIRL WITH THE BROWN HAIR

On the plains of Sroil(?) I left my love
And her mother no doubt fighting with her.
About the love she gave my kind, an aimless wanderer,
With no stack of gold to help me.
Her kind, child like lips put a blossom to my story
And is a young child without any doubt.
Isn't is nice for my kind to be working beside
The girl with the brown hair

I tell my tale to my own folk all together
How defeated, weak an senseless I am
Thinking, feeling and hoping for her return
Each evening and Sunday morning.
No dancing to the ready, beauty nor cleverness

I can't think for the loss of my senses.
But the heart of my heart
Has been robbed by an intense fervent love
For the girl with the brown hair

I have been exhausted without anyone to accompany me
No one in the world to care for me.
There is danger behind, death without delay
In some way I have lost my senses.
With the sound of her voice leap out
The fish from their pool will her charms.
I proclaim as a thing, my heart will be never
satisfied
Without the girl with the brown hair

This is the best I can do at this time. I will get someone to proofread my translation and get back to you with any changes.

Beidh mé ag caint leat aríst,
Brían.