Here's the translation of AN SPEALADÓIR:

I am a happy little mower over from Greece
I keep my scythe along with me ready for the hay
When I lay it on the ground the men's women take it from me
In hopes that I'll be home with you at haymaking time.

My own people are over in County Sligo
My Mammy and daddy and all my friends.
They have plenty of yellow gold, and do not like brass
And I will marry the mower, 'tis he would cut the hay.

At the bottom of the townland there is a long, level field
Without a shrub, without a bush, without a shelter and it faces the hardship of life.
There is a little bit to cut from it, and it nearly put me under the sod
In hopes that I'll be home with you at haymaking time.

Girls and boys, isn't my story a pity
I am going over the ocean, without a hope 'til I die
Say a little prayer each night when you go to bed
That I will be home with you at haymaking time.

Brían.