Patrick Lynch translation:
MS 4/32 Manuscript of English prose translations by Patrick Lynch
MS 4.32.065, page 65, song 36, 1802

Patrick Lynch translation: Róisín Dubh


My sweet Rose, do not moan for what happened to you,
The Friars are coming and sailing on sea
You shall have the proper pardon, it is coming from Rome
Nor shall we spare Spanish wine on my little Black Rose

You have killed me, you little thief, and what are you the better
My soul is pledged for you, not yesterday nor today
You have left me dead powerless, without sprightly looks
Don't deceive me, my little Babe so bright fair and black

My fair gentle Rose of the brightest bloom
For the great love I bear in my heart and breast
Elope with me, my true love, and leave this land
And if I am able, I shall make a queen of you

I would walk with you on the dew by the corn field side
In hope to gain a favour and partly with your own consent
My gay flower that often told me that she loves me well
When I played and toyed at the Bath side with my little Black Rose

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