Le meán an fhómhair dá chaitheamh dom By mid-autumn I was spent Ba mhór dubhach mo scéal My story was a very sad one Go breoite, brónach, atuirseach Sick, sorrowful and weary was I Gan sólás insa' tsaol Without consolation in life Mo pháircín féir gan gearradh uaim My little field of grass uncut De dheascaibh clainn an Bhreacluain On account of the family of Brackloon 'Gus féar na gcomharsan treascartha And the neighbors' grass already cut Á chíoradh le gréin And dried by the sun
Curfá: Chorus: Dá bhfaighinnse speal ó Shasana If I had a scythe from England 'Gus crann ó Locha Léin And a handle from Lough Leane Cloch is clár is gaineamh air A stone and a board and sand on it Ó dhúiche Uí Néill From the country of O'Neill Do chuirfinn faobhar ar maidin suas I would give it an edge in the morning 'Sheasódh ar feadh na seachtaine That would stand for the whole week Is bearrtha 'bheadh an t-acra And the acre would be cut Le fáinne an lae By daybreak
Do shmaoiníos féin im' aigne I was thinking to myself San oíche trím' néal At night while I slept Go raibh beirt fhear óga chalma That there were two brave young men Do mhaíomh a bhfaobhar Boasting of their sharpness Féna ndéin do ghaibh mo theachtaire My message was dispatched to them Chun mo pháircín féin do ghearradh dhom To cut my little field for me 'S is grámhar, fáilteach freagarthach And loving, welcoming, responsive Do thánadar araon They both came
(Curfá) (Chorus)
I gcóir is i bhfaobhar bhí speal acu Ready and sharp they had a scythe Le fáinne an lae At daybreak 'S do luíodar siúd go slachtmhar glan And they leaned cleanly and tidily Is iad ag baint an fhéir Into the work of cutting the grass Seala beag don eadartha A little before milking time 'S a lán don lá gan caitheamh fós And a great part of the day not yet spent Do bhí dóthain siúd di leagaithe Enough of it was cut 'S é bearrtha go cré And it shaved to the earth