oh dear me, I put in a lot of é-s which should have been ó-s -
Brón and ph&#sfas in the last verse (first message of thread)

Here is the version from the link I posted in my last message:

AN SAGAIRTÍN

Is nach deas an sagairtín é, a stór mo chroí,
Nach beannaithe an pobal a dtéann sé thríd,
Tá branda ó Mhuire aige 'gus séala ó Chríost,
Is tá sé ag triall ar na coláistí.

Tá an oíche seo dorcha 'us tá sí fuar,
'Gus tá sí 'goilliúint ar mo chroí go mór/crua
Mo stór a d'imigh uaim is nach bhfuil le fáil,
'S a bheas ag goilliúint orm nó go bhfaighidh mé bás.

Tháinig mé aréir ag an doras úd thall
Agus ghlaoigh mé i gcogar ar mo mhíle grá
'S éard a dúirt a hathair liom nach raibh sí ann
Mar go raibh sí imithe leis an mbuachaill bán.

[Tháinig mé aréir ag an doras úd thall
Lig mé fead uirthi 'gus glórtha ard
Is éard a dúirt a hathair liom nach raibh sí ann
Go raibh sí imithe go Meiriceá.]

Is é an trua gan mise 's mo mhuirnín bán
Ar bhord na loinge 'gabháil anonn le fán
An taoille tuile agus an taoille trá
Is gan fhios ag ár muintir an raibh muid ann.

Dá mbeadh mo mháithrín ar nós bean tí,
Ó chóireodh sí leaba dhom i gceann a' tí
Bheadh cead a'm imeacht is a theacht aríst,
'S a dhul ar cuairt ag stór mo chroí.

Ó níl mé tinn agus níl mé slán,
'S éard a dúirt mo mhuintir liom go bhfaighinn-se bás,
A Dhia is a Chríost, nach mór an feall,
A mbheith i ngrá le mnaoi is gan í a'm le fáil.

Ó éist, a chailín deas, is ná síl/caoin deoir,
Mar ní dhuitse a rugadh mé na d'aon bhean beo,
Ach baistfidh mé do leanbh duit le cúnamh Dé,
Is dhá mbeadh breith ar m'aiféala a'm ba leat mé fhéin.

THE DEAR PRIEST

And isn't he the nice priest, the treasure of my heart?
And aren't the people blessed where he goes?
He has the brands of Mary and the seal of Christ,
And he is journeying to the colleges.

This night is dark and it is cold,
And it/she is greatly vexing my heart.
My treasure went from me and she cannot be found,
And she will be torturing me 'til my death.

I came last night to yonder door
And I called in in a whisper to my precious love
Her father told me she was not there,
That she had gone with another man.

[alternative verse - ... /I whistled to her.../.../ She had gone to America]

It's a pity that my fair love and I
Are not sailing on a ship away
Over flood tide and ebb tide
Without our people knowing.

If my little mother was like a woman of the house
She would make my bed for me
I would have permission to come and go
and to visit my heart's treasure.

Oh I am not sick and I am not well,
My people told me that I would get my death,
Oh God and Christ wasn't it a great deceit!
To be in love with a woman and not being able to have her?

Oh listen pretty maiden and do not cry
Because I was not given to you or any woman yet alive!
But I will baptize your child for you with the help of God,
And if I could undo my shame I would be yours


Source: Áine Meenaghan and Máirtín Tom Sheáinín Mac Donncha
the alternative verse in brackets is from a different webpage - http://www.inf.aber.ac.uk/pastpapers/welsh/exam98/semester2/gc22120.html