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IRISH SONGS AND LTR1CS 379 |
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Poor drimmin dubh sank,
And 1 saw her no more, Till I came to an island
Was close by the shore; And down on that island
1 saw her again, Like a bunch of ripe blackberries
Rolled in the rain.
Arrah, plague take you, drimmin dubh t
What made you die, Or why did you leave me,
For what and for why ? I would rather lose Paudeen,
My bouchelleen baun,1 Than part with my drimmin dubh,
Now that you're gone.
When drimmin dubh lived,
And before she was dead, She gave me fresh butter
To eat to my bread, And likewise new milk
That I soaked with my scone, But now it's black water
Since drimmin dubh's gone.
THE EMIGRANT MOTHER
Y
OUR eyes have the twin stars' light, ma croidhe Mo cuisle Tug bean ban ; And your swan-like neck is dear to me Mo caillin og alain : |
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Bouchelleen baun, my little fair-haired boy. |
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