Lyr Add: Eirigh Suas a Stoirin (Irish love song)

Subject: Lyr Add: Eirigh Suas a Stoirin (Irish love song)
From: Felipa
Date: 12 Jun 23 - 06:21 PM

https://www.orielarts.com/songs/eirigh-suas-a-stoirin/

Sources:

    Rise Up, My Darling: Lorcán Ó Muirí MSS in Ó hUallacháín papers.
    Gleannta na Coillidh Uaignigh: Dundalk Democrat, 2 Nov. 1907
    Is Lag Brónach a Bhím: Dundalk Democrat, 21 June 1913, collected by Tomás Mac Cuilleannáin from Séamus Quinn, Mullaghban.

ÉIRIGH SUAS A STÓIRÍN

Rachaidh mé amárach go hAonach Chinn Trá,
An áit a bhfaighidh mé cuideacht’ agus plé mór ar mhná,
Ní bheidh a’n duine liom ansin ach mé féin is mo ghrá,
Is a Bheití an chúil ómra, is tú ’tá mé rá.

Rise up, my darling, má tá tú ’do luí,
Foscail an doras is lig mé astoigh [istigh],
Tá buidéal i m’aice is drám fá bhean a’ tí,
’Gus tá dúil agam nach ndiúlto(cha)idh sí mé fána 'níon.

Ná fágaidh despond orm chionn ’s mé bheith gan mhaoin,
Bhéarfainn cupáin agus breacán duit is do sháith olann is lín,
Bhéarfainn sin agus tuilleadh duit is seascaireacht tí,
’Gus gruaim ar do mhalaidh, a ghrá, ní chuir?nn a choíche.

Chuir?nn bean a chodladh le ciúineas is ceol,
Agus bheinnse dá mealladh in ainneoin dá bhfuil beo,
Chuir?nn mo lámh ar a brollach agus bhéarfainn di póg,
Is cér mhiste don chailín sin, mise bheith ’g ól.

Nuair a éirímse amach ar maidin is amharcaim uaim,
Amharcaim insan taobh udaí a mbíonn mo ghrá ann,
Titeann na deora insna srathaí liom síos,
Agus nímse míle osna ’bhíos cosúil le cumhaidh.

I ngleanntáin na coilleadh uaigní is lag brónach mar bhím,
Gach tráthnóna Dé Domhnaigh is ar maidin Dé Luain,
Is go mb’fhearr liom ar maidin is mé ag éirí amach ’mo shuí,
Dá bhfaighinnse mil ar chuiseoga ag bonn chnoc na sí.

Translation by Pádraigín Ní Uallacháin:

Rise Up, My Darling

I will go out tomorrow to Newry fair,
Where I will get company and much talk of girls,
There’ll be no one along with me but my darling and me,
It’s you whom I speak of, my brown haired Betty.

Rise up, my darling, if you’re lying down,
Open the door and let me come in,
I have a bottle beside me, a dram for your mother,
I hope she’ll not refuse me the hand of her daughter.

Don’t leave me despondent for having no wealth,
I’d give you cups and griddle bread, enough linen and wool,
I’d give you that and more and a sheltered house,
And bring a frown to your brow, love, I never would do.

I’d lull a woman to sleep with silence and song,
And I’d be enticing her in spite of them all,
I’d lay my hand on her breast and give her a kiss,
And me to be drinking, sure what odds to yon lass.

When I rise in the morning and look out beyond,
I look to the land where my true love lives on,
The tears from my eyes ?ow down in full stream;
I sigh a thousand times over, as if in melancholy.

In the lonely wooded glens I languish in pain;
Each Sunday evening and Monday at dawn,
I’d rather in the morning as I rise and go out,
To ?nd honey on grasses at the fairy hill’s foot.

------
The version most commonly heard in Donegal:

ÉIRIGH SUAS A STÓIRÍN

Éirigh suas, a stóirín, mura bfhuil tú 'do shuí
Oscail/Foscail an doras agus lig mise chun ti
Tá buidéal im' aice bhéarfas deoch do mhnaoi an tí
Agus tá súil agam nach ndiúltaíonn tú mé fá do 'níon

Nuair a éirím moch/amach ar maidin         
Agus dearcaim uaim siar         
Is dearcaim ar a' bhaile úd        
a bhfuil agam le dul ann         
Titeann na deóra         
Ina sróite liom síos         
Agus nímse míle osna         
Bhíos cosúil le cumhaidh

I ngleanntan coilleadh beothorthaí        
Is lag brónach a bím         
Ó Dhomhnach go Domhnach         
'S mé ag caitheamh mo shaoil         
'S mé ag feitheamh gach trathnóna         
Ce rachadh an ród no cé thiocfadh 'un tí         
'S gan duine/aon ní ar an domhan mhór         
A thógfadh/thógas mo chroí

Nach aoibhinn don éanlaith         
A éiríos gach lá         
'S a luíos arís         
Ar an aon chraobh amháin         
Ní h'é sin dom féin         
'S do mo chéad mhíle grá         
Is i bhfad i bhfad ó chéile         
' Bhíos ár n-éirí gach lá

rough translation

Rise up my darling, if you are not already up
Open the door and let me in the house
I have a bottle beside me, a drink for the woman of the house
I hope you won't refuse me your daughter's hand

When I rise early/out in the morning and I look around me
and I look at town I must go to
the tears fall from me in a stream
and I sigh with the sorrow of parting

In the verdant forest glen
I am weak and sad
From Sunday to Sunday, I spend my life
And every evening I am watching who would go along the road
or come towards the house
Without anyone/anything in this wide world who/that would lift my heart

Isn't it pleasant for the birds who rise up every day
And then lie again on the same branch
It isn't like that for myself and my true love
For far far from each other
is our wakening each day

https://abcnotation.com/tunePage?a=trillian.mit.edu/~jc/music/abc/mirror/gaelsong/eirigh/0001
X:1
T:Eirigh Suas a Stórín
M:3/4
C:Traditional
B:Folk Songs of Britain and Ireland
K:A dorian
AAA2BA|G2B2AG|E2D2D2|D6|
D2D2D2|d2d2ed|c2BAGB|A6|
D2D2D2|d2d2ed|c2BAGB|A4Bc|
d2A2GE|G2B2AG|E2D2D2|D6||