Lyr Add: An Sceilpin Draighneach

Subject: Lyr Add: An Sceilpin Draighneach
From: keberoxu
Date: 13 Jun 16 - 11:37 AM

AN SCEILPÍN DRAIGHNEACH

[traditional]

'Gus maidin chiúin dár éiríos amach faoi bharr na gcoillte
Is ansiúd sea buaileadh saighead liom 's mo leigheas ní raibh le fáil
Mar gur dhearc mé 'n bhruinneall mheidhreach faoi bhruach na sceilpe draighne
Agus gheait mo chroí le meidhir aici 's dheamhain ar éirigh liom í a fháil

'S nach trua gan mé i mo smóilín nach leanfainn thríd an róid thú
'Sgo mbeinn ag seinm cheoil dhuit go n-éirí an lá bán
Dá bhfaighinn-se sean-bhean chríonna a mbéadh aicí bó n´ caoire
Thiomán fhainn í chun aonaigh le go mabainfinn aistí greann

Is buahaill mé atá aonraic is ní bheidh mé i bhfad má fhéadaim
Go siúlfaidh mé na réigiúin is as sin go dtír anonn
Ó corchaigh go Beann Éadair is go Bhaile Átha Cliath ina dhéidh sin
Go droichead Bhaile an tSléibhe nó go Béal an Átha siar

Tá mná na leanna ag coineadh is ná 'r fhóire ortha Mac Íosa
Nuair a bhíonns an sparán spíonta 's ar mo chroí a bhíonns an brón
Sé mo shúil go bhfaigheam aríst í ach mo léan ní bhfaighead ná coíche
Is gur gheall le saighead ar spíle í is nach claoite 'n galar an grá

Comhaltas archives

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: An Sceilpin Draighneach
From: GUEST,keberoxu
Date: 13 Jun 16 - 03:50 PM

from "Amhráin Mhuighe Seóla: Traditional Folk Songs of Galway and Mayo," pp. 126 - 127.

THE THORNY CLIFF (translation, AN SGEILPÍN DRAIGHNEACH)

Verse 1:
One morning as I roved out by the outskirts of the woods
I was stricken by an arrow and no cure could be found for me
I beheld a sportive maiden beneath a thorny cliff
My heart within leaped high for joy and no cure could be found for me

Verse 2:
'Tis a pity that I cannot be a song-thrush
Through the laneway would I deftly steal
And my song would I sing for you till the bright dawn of day
If I came across a wise old woman who owned a cow or sheep
I should drive it to the fair with her and have amusement thereby

the third verse in the preceding post does not appear in this translation

Verse 4 from previous post/
Verse 3 in Amhráin Mhuighe Seóla:
The women-topers are keening -- Jesus, Son, give them no help
When the purse is empty and my heart within is grieved
My hope is yet to find her, alas, I never shall
'Tis like a dart from a wedge of iron
Is not love a wasting illness

Editor Eileen Costello attributes the English translations of her collected Gaelic songs to Rev. Dean Malachy Eaton of Maynooth; the Dean had many translation assistants who refused to be identified for the song collection.

© Cló Iar-Chonnachta 1990; reprint from 1923, Talbot Press

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: An Sceilpin Draighneach
From: GUEST,AR
Date: 13 Jun 16 - 06:03 PM

This song appears on the 1971 Topic LP 'More Grand Airs from Connemara' (12T202), sung by Tomas O Neachtain.