Rosin Dubh - The Dubliners

A Róisín ná bíodh brón ort fé'r éirigh dhuit:

Tá na bráithre 'teacht thar sáile 's iad ag triall ar muir,

Tiocfaidh do phárdún ón bPápa is ón Róimh anoir

'S ní spárálfar fíon Spáinneach ar mo Róisín Dubh.

Is fada an réim a léig mé léi ó inné 'dtí inniu,

Trasna sléibhte go ndeachas léi, fé sheolta ar muir;

An éirne is chaith mé 'léim í, cé gur mór é an sruth;

'S bhí ceol téad ar gach taobh díom is mo Róisín Dubh.

Mhairbh tú mé, a bhrídeach, is nárbh fhearrde dhuit,

Is go bhfuil m’anam istigh i ngean ort 's ní inné ná inniu;

D’fhág tú lag anbhfann mé i ngné is i gcruth

Ná feall orm is mé i gnean ort, a Róisín Dubh.

Shiúbhalfainn féin an drúcht leat is fásaigh ghuirt,

Mar shúil go bhfaighinn rún uait nó páirt dem thoil.

A chraoibhín chumhra, gheallais domhsa go raibh grá agat dom

'S gurab í fíor-scoth na Mumhan í, mo Róisín Dubh.

Beidh an Éirne 'na tuiltibh tréana is réabfar cnoic,

Beidh an fharraige 'na tonntaibh dearga is doirtfear fuil,

Beidh gach gleann sléibhe ar fud éireann is móinte ar crith,

Lá éigin sul a néagfaidh mo Róisín Dubh.

Róisín don't be sad about what happened to you:

The brothers' are coming abroad as they go to sea,

Your pardon will come from the Pope and from Rome to the east

And Spanish wine will not be spared on my Róisín Dubh.

I've been with her for a long time from yesterday to today,

Across mountains I went with her, under sails at sea;

The erne I threw 'jumped her, though the current was great;

And there was string music on all sides of me and my Róisín Dubh.

You killed me, bride, and you were no better,

That my soul is in love with you and not yesterday or today;

You have left me weak and weak in form and shape

Don't betray me when I'm in love with you, Róisín Dubh.

I would walk with you in the dew of the wilderness,

Hoping to get a secret from you or please part.

Fragrant twig, I promised you that you loved me

And that she is the true best of Munster, my Róisín Dubh.

The Erne will be a strong flood and the hills will be torn,

The sea will be red waves and blood will be shed,

Every mountain valley in all Ireland and the moors will tremble,

Someday before my Róisín Dubh dies.