Irish Gaelic Songs

collected by Dennis Doyle

#1 Báidín Fheilimí
Báidín Fheilimí, d'imigh go Góla, báidín Fheilimí is Feilimí ann,
Báidín Fheilimí, d'imigh go Góla, báidín Fheilimí is Feilimí ann.

chorus:
Báidín bídeach, báidín beosach, báidín bóidheach, báidín Fheilimí.
Báidín díreach, báidín deontach, báidín Fheilimí is Feilimí ann.

Báidín Fheilimí, d'imigh go Toraí, báidín Fheilimí is Feilimí ann,
Báidín Fheilimí, d'imigh go Toraí, báidín Fheilimí is Feilimí ann.

Báidín Fheilimí, briseadh i dToraí, báidín Fheilimí is Feilimí ann,
Báidín Fheilimí, briseadh i dToraí Fheilimí is Feilimí ann.

Feilim's little boat goes off to Gola, and Tory Island. It's a well-built, straight and strong boat, but in the last verse it is wrecked off Tory as many a boat has.

#2 Oró, sé doBheatha Abhaile
curfá:
Oró, sé do bheatha abhaile, Oró, sé do bheatha abhaile, Oró, sé do bheatha abhaile
Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh.

'Sé do bheatha, a bhean ba léanmhar, do ba é ár gcreach tú bheith i ngéibheann,
do dhúiche bhreá i seilbh méirleach, is tú díolta leis na Gallaibh.

Tá Gráinne Mhaol ag teacht thar sáile, óglaigh armtha léi mar gharda,
Gaeil iad féin is ní Gaill ná Spáinnigh, is cuirfidh siad ruaig ar Ghallaibh.

A bhuí le Rí na bhFeart go bhfeiceann, mura mbim beo ina dhiaidh ach seachtain,
Gráinne Mhaol agus míle gaiscíoch, ag fógairt féin ar Ghallaibh.

A call to arms by Padraic Pearse. A welcome home to the Irish of the diaspora. Your fine heritage is in the hands of a thief. Grace O'Malley is coming to put the strangers to route. Tap here for a small recorded section of the chorus

#3 Téir abhaile riú
curfá:
Téir abhaile riú, téir abhaile riú, téir abhaile riú a Mhary,
téir abhaile riú 's fan abhaile mar atá do mharagadh déanta.

Is cuma cé dhein é nó nár dhein,
is cuma cé dhein é a Mhary,
Is cuma cé dhein é nó nár dhein,
mar atá do mharagadh déanta.

Pós an píobaire, pós an píobaire
pós an píobaire, a Mhary
Pós an píobaire, i dtus an oíche
's beidh sé agat ar maidin.

Tá do mharagadh,
Níl mo mharagadh,
Tá do mharagadh déanta,
Níl mo mharagadh,
Tá do mharagadh,
Níl mo mharagadh déanta!

A father urging his daughter to go home and marry the piper. Obviously, she has better taste than that and argues him down

#4 Níl Sé Ina Lá
chorus:
Níl sé ina lá, níl a grá. Níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go maidin,
Níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill, solas ard atá sa ghealaigh.

Chuaigh mé isteach i dteach aréir, is d'iarr mé cairde ar mhnaoi an leanna.
is é dúirt sí liom "Ní bhfaighidh tú deor. Buail an bóthar is gabh abhaile."

Chuir mé féin mo lámh i mo phóca, is d'iarr m«briseadh scillinge uirthi.
Is é dúirt sí liom "Suigh síos ag bord, is bí ag ól anseo go maidin."

"éirigh i do shuí, a fhear an tí, cuir ort do bhrístí is do hata.
Go gcoinne tú ceol leis an duine cóir, a bheas ag ól anseo go maidin."

Nach mise feín an fear gan chéill, a d'fhag mo chíos in mo scornaigh?
D'fhág mé léan orm féin, is d'fhág mé séan ar dhaoine eile.

The Irish version of the Wild Rover in which a man is tricked into spending all night in a pub while spending the rent money.

#5 Mol Ní Mhaoileoin

I mBaile Athá Cliath, Ní fhaca mé riamh,
Aon chailín níos sciamhaí ná Mol Ní Mhaoileoin,
Ag stiúradh a barra, gach áit ins a chathair,
Le Ruacain is sliogáin, is iad go breá beo.

curfa:
Is iad go breá beo, is iad go breá beo,
Le Ruacain is sliogáin, is iad go breá beo.

Ba mhangaire éisc í, an cheird di ab éascai,
Ós amhladh dá muintir ó chianta fadó,
Ag stiúradh a mbarra, gach áit ins a chathair,
Le Ruacain is sliogáin, is iad go breá beo.

curfa:

Ach mo chreach is mo dhiacair, fuair Mol bocht an fiabhras,
Agus b'in i an chríoch bhí le Mol Ní Mhaoiloin,
Ach tá taibhse sa chathair, ag stiúradh a mbarra,
Le Ruacain is sliogáin, is iad go breá beo.
curfa:

The old favorite, Molly Malone, in a clever translation into Irish.

#6 Siul a Rún
chorus:
Siúl, siúl, siúl, a rún, Siúl go socair agus siúl go cúin, Siúl go dti an doras agus ailig liom. Is go dteighigh tú a bhoirnín, slán.

I would I were on yonder hill. T'is there I'd sit and cry my fill, and every tear would turn a mill. Is go dteighigh tú a bhoirnín, slán.

I'll sell my rack. I'll sell my reel. I'll sell my only spinning wheel. To buy for my love a sword of steel. Is go dteighigh tú a bhoirnín, slán.

I'll dye my petticoats. I'll dye them red, and around the world, I'll beg my bread. Until my parents shall wish me dead. Is go dteighigh tú a bhoirnín, slán.

I wish. I wish. I wish in vain. I wish I had my heart again. And vainly think I'd not complain. Is go dteighigh tú a bhoirnín, slán.

But now my love has gone to France, to try his fortunes to advance. If e'er he come back, t'is but a chance. Is go dteighigh tú a bhoirnín, slán.

A young women urges her boyfriend to desert the army...walk away my love, walk quietly, get up and go away with me. (Please excuse the Irish misspelling. Most printed versions have transliterated Irish).

Appreciate this resource? Check out Mr.Doyle's recordings:
Dennis DoyleIrish Blessings

Lovely peaceful all instrumental Celtic Harp with fiddle, oboe, tin whistle and guitar. Traditional Irish airs including "She Moves Through the Fair", "Wild Mountain Thyme", the "Wild Geese" and some of the airs to these songs.

  more about the cd

Workshop Notes

Collected by Dennis Doyle
http://english.glendale.cc.ca.us/doyle.a.html
818-956-1311
ddoyle@glendale.cc.ca.us