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User Name Thread Name Subject Posted
Thompson Lyr ADD Mná na Éireann (The Women of Ireland) (11) RE: Lyr Req: Mná na Éireann (The Women of Ireland) 06 Nov 21


Duanaire is parallel tex… oh, see what you mean. I'll take a run at it; no guarantees. Someone more fluent can make corrections.

There's a woman in Ireland who'd grant me silk, and my fill to drink
And there's a woman in Ireland to whom rumours of my music would be sweet
Don't play on the strings, but there's no woman alive in Ireland who's better than her
Myself leaping or stretched in the clay and the best of me beneath sods.

There's a woman in Ireland who'd be jealous of me if we got nothing bu a kiss.
O, woman alone [among all women], is it not strange the story, my own affection is theirs (?)
There's a woman I'd prefer than a battle or a hundred battles, that I would never leave
And there'a heavenly girl belonging to a man without English, black-avised, swarthy.

There's a woman in Leinster who doesn't care if I leap on board
And there's a woman in Farney who'd get verses and the sweetest sounds
There was a woman in Carrigedmond who would wash laughing drinking (? eh what?)
And the time she was a virgin it is not I who would ravish [not sure of dá chois ó chomhar]

There is a woman who would lay out, wash and full cambric and silk
And there is a woman who would make ornamented woollens and turn a millstone
A better woman than her would be alternately collecting alms or torments
And a woman behind both of them who'd lie with a man though her mother was under the soil.

There's a women who did too much abstinence and love of great God
And there's a woman who wouldn't bear witness in any way and who wouldn't raise a tune
But show me the finest woman who would accept a man devoutly and correctly
That his means would not survive (?), that he would not win her before the world (?)

There's a woman who would say that we would go that we would get gold
And a woman in her shift, her mien is better than herds of cattle
With a woman who would disturb Ballymyre and all of Tyrone
And I see no cure for my disease but gushes of drink.

(This is with the help of five dictionaries and school Irish. I hope there's some kindly person who can put more sense on it!)


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