A version of the song collected from oral tradition by Irish scholar Patrick Lynch in Mayo in June 1802, for Edward Bunting's Collection, in which none of Lynch's two hundred collected and translated songs were ever published by Bunting.

Patrick Lynch Irish Gaelic transcription in:
The Edward Bunting Collection in Special Collections & Archives, Queen's University Belfast
MS 4/26 Manuscript collection of Irish songs in Gaelic and some English prose translations by Patrick Lynch
MS 4_26_23b, page 136, 1802
First two verses shown only.


Patrick Lynch Irish Gaelic fair copy (neatly re-written) with four verses:
MS 4/10 Manuscript collection of Irish songs in Gaelic by Patrick Lynch
MS 4.10.06, page 6, 1802

Patrick Lynch Irish Gaelic fair copy: Chaitilin Tiriall


Caitilín Tiriall

Mo mhile creach maidne nár fáigeadh mé
Ar bhruach Loch Airil le fáire an lae
Ar shúil go bhfuighinn amharc ar Chaití na gcraobh
Mar chuala mé teastas ar breaghacht a sgéimh

Is binne í ná an iomad da cheoltaibh sígh
'S ar gile í iná sneachta fo dho ar a tslígh
Ni fhaicfhid bean leanna fón tsráide so shíos
Nach nólfa mé sláinte Chaitilín Tiriall.

Fuair mise litir do sghríobh le stuaim
'S ar mithid liom labhairt ar Chaití na gcuach
Plánda linbh ta suídheamhuil suairc
A samhuil ní feasach mé shíos nó shuas

An sgeul so dírim chluineas go leor
On Bhóin go Gaillimh 'sgo Clárthuibh Múmhain
Gurab aoibhin don talamh í a shiubhlan a tseóid
A mbian a cuach ag gairm gach aon lá


Note on spelling: verse1 line 4
breá, breágh, breagh, breadh = fine, lovely, handsome, beautiful, comely, splendid
breaghacht, breadhacht = finery, beauty, ornament
bréa, bréagh = lie, falsehood, deceit
bréagach = false, lying

verse 3 line 3
Plánda = plant; comely person
Plánda breá linbh = fine comely child
suídheamhuil = calm, settled, quiet, sedate; good deportment, noble

verse 4 line 1
dírim = numerous, plentiful


A Patrick Lynch translation is probable in a manuscript not as yet available to view.


A literal translation

'Tis a pity (My thousand morning woes) I am not left
On the shores of Loch Eirill waiting for daylight
Hoping to catch a glimpse of Kitty of the tresses
As I heard a testament (report) to the finery of her beauty

She's sweeter than many of her fairy songs
She's whiter than the snow beneath her on her way
Will not see the ale house wife along the whole street
Who would not drink to the health of Caitlin Trial.

I got to write a letter with prudence
It's time for me to talk of Kitty of the tresses
A comely child that is pleasantly calm
Like I am not aware of down or up

This is a story I hear plenty enough
From the Boyne to Galway and the Munster Registrars
May the earth delight her with jewels as she travels
A cuckoo's calling for food every day

.