A Bhuinneán Bhuí is é mo chrá do luí
Is do chnámha sínte ar leaca lom'
Is nach dtearn tú díth no dolaidh sa tír
Is narbh fhearr leat fíon nó uisce poill.
Dá gcuirfeá scéala fá mo dhéin
Go raibh tú i ngéibhinn nó i ndeacair iot'
Ó bhainfinnse béim ar Loch Mhic an Éin
A fhliuchfadh do bhéal is do bhrollach síos.
Ní hiad bhur n-éanlaith atá mé ag éagaoin
An chuach, an traona ná an chorr-bhreac
Ach an Buinneán Buí, a bhí lán de chroí
Is gur cosúil liom féin é i snua is i ndreach.
Bhíodh sé ag síoról na dí
Is deir daoine go mbím ar an nós sin seal
Is níl braon dá bhfuighinn nach ligfinn síos
Ar fhaitíos go bhfuighinn féin bás den tart!
Is é 'd'iarr mo stór orm ligint den ól
Nó nach mbeinnse beo ach seal beag gearr:
Is é dúirt mé léi gur chan sí an bhréag
Nó go mb'fhaide do mo shaol an braon seo a fháil.
Nach bhfeiceann tú éan an phíobáin réidh
Go dteachaidh sí in éag den tart ar ball?
Is a dhaoine cléibh, fliuchaigí bhur mbéal
Nó ní bhfuighidh sibh braon i ndiaidh bhur mbáis!
[English translation:]
Oh Yellow Bittern, alas to see you stretched
And your bones there lying on bare flagstones
You did no harm at all in the country
And would just as prefer ditch water to wine
Had you only sent me a message
That you were in a quandry, in need of a drink
I would have broken the ice on the lake
To wet your beak and all the way down to your breast.
I'm not lamenting your ordinary birds
The cuckoo, the corncrake or the dappled heron
But the yellow bittern of the great heart
Who was just like me in many ways
He was always fond of the sup
And people say I'm fond of a drop myself
Whatever drink comes my way, it's down it goes
For fear that I might one day die of thirst!
And my darling asked me to give up the booze
Or I'd only be alive a short while more,
I told her straight out she was telling a lie
And that the drink extended my life's span.
Don't you see that bird with the smooth neck
That only a while ago perished with the thirst?
Ah, my pleasant people, wet your whistles
Because after death ye won't get a drop!
Is do chnámha sínte ar leaca lom'
Is nach dtearn tú díth no dolaidh sa tír
Is narbh fhearr leat fíon nó uisce poill.
Dá gcuirfeá scéala fá mo dhéin
Go raibh tú i ngéibhinn nó i ndeacair iot'
Ó bhainfinnse béim ar Loch Mhic an Éin
A fhliuchfadh do bhéal is do bhrollach síos.
Ní hiad bhur n-éanlaith atá mé ag éagaoin
An chuach, an traona ná an chorr-bhreac
Ach an Buinneán Buí, a bhí lán de chroí
Is gur cosúil liom féin é i snua is i ndreach.
Bhíodh sé ag síoról na dí
Is deir daoine go mbím ar an nós sin seal
Is níl braon dá bhfuighinn nach ligfinn síos
Ar fhaitíos go bhfuighinn féin bás den tart!
Is é 'd'iarr mo stór orm ligint den ól
Nó nach mbeinnse beo ach seal beag gearr:
Is é dúirt mé léi gur chan sí an bhréag
Nó go mb'fhaide do mo shaol an braon seo a fháil.
Nach bhfeiceann tú éan an phíobáin réidh
Go dteachaidh sí in éag den tart ar ball?
Is a dhaoine cléibh, fliuchaigí bhur mbéal
Nó ní bhfuighidh sibh braon i ndiaidh bhur mbáis!
[English translation:]
Oh Yellow Bittern, alas to see you stretched
And your bones there lying on bare flagstones
You did no harm at all in the country
And would just as prefer ditch water to wine
Had you only sent me a message
That you were in a quandry, in need of a drink
I would have broken the ice on the lake
To wet your beak and all the way down to your breast.
I'm not lamenting your ordinary birds
The cuckoo, the corncrake or the dappled heron
But the yellow bittern of the great heart
Who was just like me in many ways
He was always fond of the sup
And people say I'm fond of a drop myself
Whatever drink comes my way, it's down it goes
For fear that I might one day die of thirst!
And my darling asked me to give up the booze
Or I'd only be alive a short while more,
I told her straight out she was telling a lie
And that the drink extended my life's span.
Don't you see that bird with the smooth neck
That only a while ago perished with the thirst?
Ah, my pleasant people, wet your whistles
Because after death ye won't get a drop!