Brid Og Ni Mhaille - The Corrs

Is a Bhríd Óg Ní Mháille

'S tú d’fhág mo chroí cráite

'S chuir tú arraingeacha

An bháis fríd cheartlár mo chroí

Tá na céadta fear i ngrá

Le d'éadan ciúin náireach

Is go dtug tú barr breáchtacht'

Ar Thír Oirghiall más fíor

Níl ní ar bith is áille

Ná'n ghealach os cionn a' tsáile r

Ná bláth bán na n-airne

Bíos ag fás ar an draighean

Ó siúd mar bíos mo ghrá-sa

Níos trilsí le breáchtacht

Béilín meala na háilleacht'

Nach ndearna riamh claon

Is buachaill deas óg mé

'Tá triall chun mo phósta

'S ní buan i bhfad beo mé

Mura bhfaighidh mé mo mhian

A chuisle is a stóirín

Déan réidh agus bí romhamsa

Cionn deireanach den Domhnach

Ar Bhóithrín Dhroim Sliabh

Is tuirseach 's brónach

A chaithimse an Domhnach

Mo hata 'mo dhorn liom

'S mé ag osnaíl go trom

'S mé ag amharc ar na bóithre

'Mbíonn mo ghrá-sa ag gabhail ann

'S í ag fear eile pósta

Is gan í bheith liom

Oh Brid Og O’Malley

You have left my heart breaking

You’ve sent the death pangs

Of sorrow to pierce my heart sore

A hundred men are craving

For your breathtaking beauty

You’re the fairest of maidens

In Oriel for sure

No spectacle is fairer

Than moonbeams on the harbor

Or the sweet scented blossoms

Of the sloe on the thorn

But my love shines much brighter

In looks and in stature

That honey-lipped beauty

Who never said wrong

I’m a handsome young fellow

Who is thinking of wedlock

But my life will be shortened

If I don’t get my dear

My love and my darling

Prepare now to meet me

On next Sunday evening

On the road to Drum Slieve

'Tis sadly and lonely

I pass the time on Sunday

My head bowed in sorrow

My sights heavy with woe

As I gaze upon the byways

That my true love walks over

Now she’s wed to another

And left me forlorn

Bríd Óg Ní Mháille

You left my heart broken

And you sent arrows

Death through the heart of my heart

Hundreds of men are in love

With your quiet embarrassing face

That you gave top '

On Tír Oirghiall if true

Nothing is more beautiful

Than the moon above the sea r

Do not white flower of the kidneys

Growing on the blackthorn

From those as I live my love

More treacherous with brilliance

The honeyed mouth of beauty '

Never biased

I'm a pretty young boy

'I'm getting married

And I will not live long

If I do not get my wish

His pulse and his sweetheart

Get ready and be ahead of me

Last Sunday

On the Drumlea Mountain Road

It's tired and sad

Which I spend Sunday

I have my hat in my hand

I sigh heavily

As I look at the roads

'My love is in it

She is married to another man

She is not with me

Oh Brid Og O’Malley

You have left my heart breaking

You’ve sent the death pangs

Of sorrow to pierce my heart sore

A hundred men are craving

For your breathtaking beauty

You’re the fairest of maidens

In Oriel for sure

No spectacle is fairer

Than moonbeams on the harbor

Or the sweet scented blossoms

Of the sloe on the thorn

But my love shines much brighter

In looks and in stature

That honey-lipped beauty

Who never said wrong

I’m a handsome young fellow

Who is thinking of wedlock

But my life will be shortened

If I don’t get my dear

My love and my darling

Prepare now to meet me

On next Sunday evening

On the road to Drum Slieve

'Tis sadly and lonely

I pass the time on Sunday

My head bowed in sorrow

My heavy sights with woe

As I gaze upon the byways

That my true love walks over

Now she’s wed to another

And left me forlorn