When I attended Oireachtas na Gaeilge in Gaoth Dobhair a couple of years ago, I heard a number of people singing Donncha Bán, both on the stage and in sessions. Donncha Bán appears to have been from County Mayo, but the song is popular in Conamara and in Donegal also.

As we know, poaching used to be punishable by death. Geordie has been immortalised for stealing "sixteen of the king's royal deer". It is said that Donncha Bán was hanged for stealing a horse and that his sister composed this lament by which we still remember him. You can find other sets of lyrics at this Songs of 1798 site, and at http://www.acronet.net/~robokopp/eire/isaranmb.htm. Notes at Songs of 1798 say that Edward Bunting collected the song in Connacht and that it was a favourite of the sister of Henry Joy McCracken. (McCracken was also hung; look him up in the DT)

DONNCHA BÁN
1. Nach ar an mbaile seo chonaictheas an t-ionas
Ag Donncha Bán is é dhá dhaoradh,
Bhí caipín bán air in áit a hata,
Is róipín cnáibe in áit a charabhata.

2. Tá spré Dhonncha Bháin ag tíocht abhaile
Agus ní ba, caoirigh í ná capaill,
Ach clártha cónra agus coinnle geala,
Tobac is píopaí ag lucht a gcaite.

3. A Dhonncha Bháin, a dheartháir dhilis,
Is maith tá fhios agam céard a bhain díom thú -
Ag líonadh an chupain 's ag deargadh an phíopa
'S ag siúl an drúchta go mall san oíche.

4. A Dhonncha Bháin, a dheartháir dhilis,
Nach breá na trí ród atá chun do thí-se -
Ród na mbó agus ród na gcaorach
'gus cosán socair faoi chosa daoine.

5. A Dhonncha Bháin, a thogha na ngaiscioch
A chúil tromdhualaigh na gruaige daite,
Ní liachtaí lúibín i do chúl ag casadh
Ná grá ban óg i do chónra i dtaisce.

6. Dá mbeifeá agamsa san áit ar chóir duit,
Thíos i Sligeach nó i mBaile an Róba,
Bhrisfí an chroch, ghearrfaí an rópa,
'S ligfí Donncha Bán abhaile ar an eolas.

5. A Dhonncha Bháin níorbh é an chroch ba dhual duit,
Ach dul chuig an scioból 's d'easair a bhualadh,
An céachta d'iompú, deiseal's tuathal
'S an taobh dhearg den fhód a chur in uachtar.

6. A Dhonncha Bháin, éirigh id' sheasamh!
Tá buachaillí an Mhóinín ag tíocht dod' fhaire;
Glac do chamán 's téirigh chun na haille
Is cuir an liathróid na liaga ó bhaile.

7. A Dhonncha Bháin, níorbh í an croch ba dhual duit,
Ach dul chun an sciobóil agus d'easair a bhualadh
An ceacht a iompó deiseal is tuathal
'S an taobh dearg den fhód a chur in uachtar.

8. Dá mbeadh Donncha Bán san áit ba chóir dhó
Idir Caisleán an Bharraigh agus Baile an Róba,
Bhrisfí an chroch is ghearrfaí an rópa,
Agus ligfí Donncha Bán abhaile ar an eolas.

9. A Mhic Uí Mhaol Chróin ná raibh séan ort!
Ná raibh d' iníon ag iarraidh spré ort!
Ná raibh do chlann mhac agat i bhfochair a chéile!
Is tú bhain mo dheartháir dhíom a bhí geal gléigeal.

10. Thug tú th'éitheach a scúille an mhí-áidh,
Ní lao bó bradaí a bhí i mo dheartháir,
Ach buachaillín cruinn deas ar chnoc is ar chnocán,
'S bhainfeadh fuaim go bog binn as camán.

11. A ghiolla úd thall a bhfuil casóg bhán ort,,
Más duine ag imeacht thú, nár casa Dia slán thú!
Urlár lom agat agus mórán páistí,
Seisear dall orthu agus iad gam máthair!

12. A bhean úd thall a rinne do gháire,
Na raibh tú oíche ach mar atá mé!
Do shúile ag silt 's do chroí bheith cráite
Is do dhá laimh timpeall ar mhac do mháthar!

13. Och ón ó, nach clúin í an oíche!
Agus ní ciúine ná mná do chaointe;
Tá ceann do chónra follamh 's a lár líonta,
Is Donncha Bán, mo dheartháir, sínte

14. An chéad ghlao a lig mé ba ag barr an bhaile é
Is an dara glao ba ag teach leath bealaigh é,
An triú glao ba ag ceann na croiche é
Is bhí Donncha Bán 's an ceann scaith' dhe.

15.Tá mé ag siúl ó tháinig an oíche,
Mo dhá laimh oscailte is mo bhrollach scaoilte:
Pardún mo dhearthár i mo bhrollach scríofa,
Is ar theacht i láthair dhom bhí mo dhíobháil déanta.


William Butler Yeats adapted the 1rst, 4th and 5th verses of Frank O'Connor's Lament for Yellow-haired Donough and used them in his play Cathleen Ní Houlihan
The numbers given at the ends of the verses indicate the corresponding Irish language verse in the version of Donncha Bán transcribed above.

THE LAMENT FOR YELLOW-HAIRED DONOUGH
translation of "Donncha Bán" by Frank O'Connor

Ye have seen a marvel in this town,
Yellow-haired Donough and he put down;
In place of his hat a little white cap,
In place of his neck-cloth a hempen rope. (1)

I have come all night without my sleep
Like a little lamb in a drove of sheep,
With naked breast and hair awry
Over Yellow-haired Donough to raise my cry. (15)

I wept the first time by the lake shore,
At the foot of your gallows I wept once more;
I wept again with an aching head
Among the English and you stretched dead. (14)

If only I had you among your kin,
The Ballinrobe or the Sligo men,
They would break the gallow and cut you down
And send you safely among your own. (8)

It was not the gallows that was your due,
But to go to the barn and thresh the straw,
And guide your plough-team up and down
Till you had painted the green hill brown. (7)

Yellow-haired Donough, I know your case;
I know what brought you to this bad place:
'Twas the drink going round and the pipes alight
And the dew in the firelds at the end of night. (3)

Mullane, that brought misfortune on (9)
My little brother, was no stroller's son,
But a handsome boy who was bold and quick
And could draw sweet sounds from a hurling stick. (10)

Mullane, may a son not share your floor(11)
Nor a daughter ever leave your door;
The table is empty at foot and head
And Yellow-haired Donough is lying dead. (13)

His marriage portion is in the house,
And it is not horses nor sheep nor cows,
But tobacco and pipes and candles lit -
Not grudging any his share of it. (2).