I wonder why "chnocainín", cnocainín means a hillock, a little hill,and is grammatically masculine - an cnocainín = the hillock.

D O Muirthile mainly researched old manuscripts and broadsheets.
Here is a bilingual song with most of the same lines as given in the first post but featuring a cailín (lassie) rather than a buachaill (laddy)
http://tionscnaimh.fng.ie/index.php?fng_function=4&fng_file=L227.TXT
from Diarmaid O Muirthile's An t-Amhrán Macaronach. (same verses repeated in Irish and in English versions to me is not true macaronic):

A NEW SONG CALLED THE FLOURISHING STATES OF KILMURRY

I am a young girl that's given to stroll,
I travelled the most of this kingdom,
To take a full view of each curious abode,
And that was my daily intention.
My rambles are certain to many a place,
I held in my rambles a continual game,
But in all of my strolling I found none so fair
As that place without equal, Kilmurry.

Is cailín beag mise do shiúlaigh a lán
Ag cur tuairisc na háite a b'fhearr ionad,
I múineadh, in iompar, i gclú cheart 's i gcáil
I mbéasa, i dtréithe 's i bhfriotal.
Níl aon chúige in Éirinn na dúnbhaile breá
Dá bhfacasa im' shiúlaibh ba shúgaí le rá,
Is níor luigh riamh mo shúil ar aon dúthaigh chomh breá
Leis an áit úd a nglaonn siad Cill Mhuire air.

Many young heifers does frequent that place,
Pretty fair maids and old wenches,
Expecting to meet with young lads of great fame,
That sprung from the railing of kissing.
It's there you'd see multitudes flocking each day,
From Cashel to Thurles and Charleville blades,
Courting and flailing and making so gay
In the flourishing states of Kilmurry.

Is mó cailín cumtha is cúileann deas mná
Bhíonn ag triall ar an áit ag fáil comthaigh,
Béithe na féile do thaithíos na rakes,
Is go soilbhir a ghéilleann na bruinnill.
Is ann a bhíonn torpaigh ag túirlingt de ghnáth,
Ó Chaiseal go Dúrlas is dúbailt ón Ráth,
Ag cosnaimh an tsúgradh ba dhual don áit,
Is gan dabht ar an áit úd Cill Mhuire.

It's there you'd see clusters well covered in brakes,
The flying of the seagull and pigeon;
Grouse, pheasant and partridge, woodcock and game,
Roses, pinks, daisies and laurels,
A cover for foxes and badgers and hares,
The sound of the horn in chase of such game,
Whipping and cracking by each hearty young rake,
To inherit the states of Kilmurry.

Is ann a bhíonn tionlac colúr is faoileán,
An chéirseach, cearc fraoigh agus druide,
Ar ghéagaibh ina slaodaibh ag géilleadh faoi bhláth,
Is gur fonn liom le háireamh a bhfoireann;
Bíonn fuaim ag an gconairt á leagaint chun fiaigh,
Tallyho leis an sionnach ag na marcaigh ina dhiaidh,
Bíonn adharca á séideadh is na céadta halloa,
Ar chnocáinín aerach Cill Mhuire.

It's there you'd see topers sporting each day,
Drinking and raking and kissing,
And drowning their sorrows like lads of great fame,
With brandy, brown ale and strong whiskey;
If ever you chance for to ramble and roll,
Act as a bold champion abroad and at home,
No longer to tarry but a bottle to drain,
And drink to the rakes of Kilmurry.

Is ann a bhíonn cúinne go súgach ag dáimh,
Mar a léitear na húdair is cliste,
Spórt agus aoibhneas, rince agus rás,
Agus ceolta go binn ann dá seinm
Ag gasra groífhear ar gníomh iad le rá
Ar mhachaire an choimheascair nár stríoc riamh dá namhaid,
Sin deireadh lem' ghníomhartha, ach líontar suas cárt
Go n-ólfaimid sláinte Chill Mhuire.