JIMMY MO MHILE STÓR

Bliain an taca so d'imigh uaim rún mo chléibh,
Ní thiochfaidh sé abhaile go dtabharfaidh sé cúrsa an tsaoil.
Nuair a chífead é rithfead le fuinneamh ró-ard 'na chomhair,
Agus clúdód le mil é, 's é Jimmy mo mhíle stór.

Bíonn m'athair 's mo mháthair ag bearradh 's ag bruíon liom féin:
Táim giobaithe, piocaithe, ciapaithe, cráite de m' shaol;
Thugas taithneamh don duine úd dob 'fhinne 's dob áille snó
Agus chuaigh sé ar bord loinge, 'sé Jimmy mo mhíle stór.

Raghad-sa chun coille 'gus caithfead ann an chuid eile dem shaol,
San áit ná beidh éinne, ag éisteacht le ceol na n-éan;
Ag bun an chrainn chaorthainn, mar a bhfásann ann féar go leor,
Ag tabhairt taithneamh don duin' úd, 'sé Jimmy mo mhíle stór.

source : Jimmy Crowley's Irish Song Book. Cork: Mercier, 1986.

And from P W Joyce, "Old Irish Folk Music and Songs" (1909):
"The air of this song -a lovely tender simple melody - was published for the first time by me in my Ancient Irish Music, It is well known all over Munster, wher it is also called Drahaareen O Mochree [Dearthairín-ó Mo Chroí] ....The Irish words of Jemmy mo Veela Sthore may be seen in my Irish Music and Song. The English words given below ... are also a free translation, which I have known all my life, and of which I have also copies on printed ballad-sheets."

I haven't seen Joyce's publication of the Irish-language lyrics, but the words of "Jemmy mo Veela Sthore" are indeed "a free translation" of the Irish language lyrics given above. I don't see the lines about gold and silver, money and flocks in either the Irish language verses, either those from Jimmy Crowley or in the fairly similar macaronic version already posted.

Jemmy mo Veela Sthore Jemmy, My Thousand Treasures

These twelve months and better my darling has left the shore;
He ne'er will come back till he travels the globe all o'er;
And whene'er he returns he'll bring silver and gold in store;
He's the fondest of lovers, my Jemmy mo veela sthore.

My father and mother they never do give me ease,
Since my darling has left me to cross the raging seas,
I once had a sweetheart with money and flocks and more,
But he's gone o'er the ocean, my Jemmy mo veela sthore.

I'll go to the woods and I'll spend ther the rest of my days,
Where no living mortal I'll suffer my soul to tease;
Among the lone rowan-trees with red berries drooping o'er,
Lamenting the absence of Jemmy mo veela sthore.