Another song which shares the same air, Máire Chonnacht agus Séamus Ó Dónaill, is published in Peter Kennedy, Folksongs of Britain and Ireland. It is sung by Conal Ó Domhnaill (Ó Dónaill, O'Donnell) on an associated Folktrax recording.

MÁIRE CHONNACHT AGUS SÉAMUS Ó DÓNAILL

Fear gan chéill a rachadh ' gcléibhín,
Amach i n-éadan a' mhórtais
Le h-art a mhéir 's le tréan céasladh
Gur chuir sé téad 'gus dol le rópa air.

Tharraing 'na dhiaidh é go bun a' mhéile
'S cá bhfuil a' té a bheadh 'na dheoidh air,
Gan a thabhairt do aoinneach 'ár beathaíodh 'n Éirinn
Nár fhliuch a ladhar ariamh san ócáid?

Más lag nóláidir a chaill a' t-adhmad,
Nach maith an áit a chur sa tséip[eal
A chrochadh i n-áirde os coinn' an Ardrí
Le bheith 'guí go bráth ar son na gcréatúr5.

Dearc, a Mháire, ar na fir a fágadh
'S gan lucht a dtarrthála in Éirinn
Nach gol go cráite ba choir a dhéanamh
'S chan bheith ' gáirí fán éadáil?

Dá mbeifeá i nArainn taobh 'staigh de dhá bhliain,
Tchífeá adhmad saor go leor ann,
Muic-fheoil shásta ' síoda Spáinneach
'S ba bheag a b'fhearrde do thír mór é.

'S é dúirt Naomh Pádraig guir mhíle b'fhearr dúinn
ag tógáil grágáin fríd a' mhóinidh
Ná a' tógáil adhmad le h-ordú báillidh
'S á chur i dTeampall na Róimhe.

translation

Only a fool would go out in a sieve
Out in the teeth of a roaring gale
And with skilled hands and strong rowing
Succeed in getting a rowlock rope round.

To the edge of the sandbank he pulled it after,
And who is there who'd blame him for that,
For not giving it to anyone born in Ireland
Who never his hands that time got wet?

Whether the loss of the wood was great or not,
Isn't the chapel the right place,
Hung up above the High King's altar
For ever to pray for the sake of the creatures.

Look, Mary, on the men who were left there
With no one in Ireland to save them.
Should we not be bitterly crying
And not about their loss be laughing?

If you were to go to Aran within two years,
You would see plenty of cheap timber there,
Spanish silk and satidfying bacon,
Though little good it would do on the mainland.

Saint Patrick said 'twas a thousand times better
For us to drag tree-stumps through the bog-lands
Than to lift wood by bailiff's orders,
Putting it into the old church of Rome.

The translation is from Kennedy's book. It might be by Seán Ó Baoighill / O'Boyle (?). Other printed versions are in 'Máire', Rann na Feirste and N. Ó hUrmoltaidh, 1973. Translation or no, this song is difficult to understand without interpretation:

Notes: ''This song is local to the Ranafast area of west Donegal and concerns the problem caused by a lot of timber that came drifting into the area, floating in from the Atlantic. It was composed as a conversation between a Ranafast O'Donnell and a woman who came to Ranafast from County Galway or Mayo and became known locally as Mary Connaught [Máire Chonnacht]. She sings the first pair of verses, he sings the middle pair, and Mary has the last word in verses 5 and 6.

   'When the timber came ashore, the priest more or less took the timber from the people that had gtot it ashore in order to make use of it for roofing the chapel. As far as I could hear, they said that Mary of Connaught was too much for him in the song. She had the last word.' - Conal O'Donnell

''The tune of this song is the air of a well-known Connaught song Cuaichín Ghleann Néifin (ÓTuama:1955) and is also used for Chaith Mé Seacht Seachtainí i Mainistir na Búille, recorded by Máire Ní Scolai for Gael-Linn.

   'I've heard the old people …talking about her. People moved until they got some place - after the Battle of Kinsale they were on the move. And that's how they came into these poor parts. It's not that there were land there around Kincasslagh or parts of the Rosses but it was rocky and mountainy and there was nothing there but cliffs, but in any case they made land. As the man said, they made land out of the rocks and they quarried these stones and boulders and everything, so it seems Mary Connaught took up her residence in Kincasslagh.
   'So there was a priest there and he fancied where she was living for to build a chapel there so didn't agree … and there was an argument and a quarelling all like this between herself and the priest. But they say she was gifted in the tongue. …That's how she came into it - being gifted in composing songs and verses and everything like that.
   'So in them days anyhow, there were hardly any such thing as anybody being the owner of where they lived. They just took up residence there and the priest more or less fancied this spot. And not that he commandeered it or anything, but he tried to come to an agreement with her. But she wouldn't agree….
   'In any case, the priest took advantage of the place and he built the chapel and they say that she had potatoes growing there where the graveyard is now. And they say that the potatoes grew up after him making the chapel and she was able to dig up the potatoes in the graveyard that she had planted before they started building.' - Conal O'Donnell''