The two songs are totally different

Joe Heaney's recording is for the song:
Dán Oíche Nollag (The Poem of Christmas Eve)
Also titled: Chuadar Siar is Aniar na Sráideanna (They Went Back and Forth on the Roads)
Which predates Joe Heaney's time.


This predates the poem Oíche Nollag written by Máire Mac an Tsaoi in 1942. (see text earlier in thread)



Chuadar Siar is Aniar na Sráideanna
(Joe Heaney's Dán Oíche Nollag is a shorter version of this)

Chuadar siar is aniar na sráideanna,
Is ní bhfuaireadar aon dídean ann,
Nó go dtáinigeadar sa stábla naofa,
Dhá uairín roimh lá.

Bhí naoimh ann is bhí aingil ann,
Ag gabháil fútha agus tharstu,
Nó gur rugadh do leanbh naofa,
Idir bullán agus asal.

Rugadh an leanbh naofa,
Idir bullán agus asal,
Is tháinig na haoirí,
Lena adhradh roimh mhaidin.

Curfá:
Aililiú leá,
Is aililiú leá,
A bhó bhó is a chó chó,
Is aililiú leá.

Nár tháinig na trí ríthe ann,
Ag déanamh iontais den leanbh,
Is nár chaitheadar an oíche,
Ag seinm ceolta don mhaighdean
bheannaithe.

Nár thairgeadar na trí seoide dó,
Mar a bhí ór buí agus aiteas,
Nó gur dhiúltaigh sé an méid sin,
Ag sábháil gach peacach.

Ag sábháil gach créatúr,
Dá raibh i bpéin mhór nó i ndeacair,
Ag tabhairt dídean faoina scéith dhóibh,
Is dáréag de na haspail.

Curfá

Is lá breá a raibh an cúpla,
Ag siúl lena chéile,
Nár fhiafraigh an mhaighdean ghlórmhar,
“An mar seo a bheas muid feasta?”

“Nach ndíolfar Déardaoin mé,
Ar leathchoróin den airgead bán,
Agus beidh mé Dé hAoine,
Do mo ruaigeadh ag mo namhaid.”

“Nach gcuirfear an chulaith róin orm,
Is na córdaí crua casta,
Is nach gcuirfear an choróin spíonta,
Le spídiúlacht ar mo chnámha.”

“Nach dtiocfar anuas orm,
Le cúig mhíle buille,
An braon uasal atá i n-uachtar,
Beidh sé anuas le mo shála.”

Curfá

They went back and forth on the roads,
But they found no shelter there,
Until they came to the holy stable,
Two hours before daybreak.

There were saints there, and there were angels,
Passing under them and over them,
Until your holy child was born,
Between a bullock and a donkey.

The holy child was born,
Between a bullock and a donkey,
And the shepherds came,
To worship him before morning.

Indeed the three kings came there,
Marvelling at the child,
And they spent the whole night,
Playing music for the blessed virgin.

They offered him three gifts,
Yellow gold and pleasure,
But he refused all of that,
To save all sinners (instead).

To save every creature,
Who was in great pain or in difficulty,
Giving them shelter under his shield,
And (that of) the twelve apostles.

One fine day the two of them,
Were walking along together,
And the glorious virgin asked,
“Is this how we will always be?”

“Indeed, I will be sold on a Thursday,
For a half crown of silver money,
And on Friday I will be,
Attacked by my enemies.”

“A hairshirt will be put on me,
And hard twisted ropes,
And indeed the crown of thorns,
Will be spitefully pushed onto my bones.”

“They will come down on top of me,
With five thousand blows,
And the noble drop (of blood) at my head,
Will be flowing down to my heels.”