Anach Cuan - Aine Minogue

Ma ghaighimse slainte is fada a bheas tracht ar an mheid a bathadh as Anach Cuan.

Mo thrua amarach gach athair is mathair

bean is paiste ata ag sileadh sul

A Ri na ngrasta, a cheap neamh is Parthas,

nar bhead an tabhacht duinn beirt na triur?

Ach la chomh brea leis gan gaoth gan baisteach

is lan an bhaid acu a scuabadh ar shiuil.

Nar mhor an t-ionadh os comhair na nadaoine

a bhfeiscint sinte ar chul a gcinn?

Screadadh is caoineadh a scanrodh daoine,

gruaig a cioradh is an chreach a roinn.

Bhi buachailli oga ann, toicht an fhomhair,

a sineadh ar chrochar is a dtabhairt go cill.

Is gurbh e gleas a bposta a bhi a dtorramh

is, a Dhia na gloire, nar mhor an feall.

If I get well, the amount of drowning from Anach Cuan will last a long time.

My pity tomorrow every father and mother

woman and baby flowing before

O King of graces, who thought heaven and Paradise,

wouldn't the three of us matter to all three?

But it's a lovely day with no wind and no rain

they are full to the brim sweeping away.

What a surprise in front of the people

to see stretched on the back of their heads?

Screaming and crying that scared people,

combing hair and dividing the spoils.

There were young shepherds, in the autumn,

stretched on a gallows and taken to a cell.

Their result was the charm of their job

yea, O God of glory, how great is the treachery.