TRIMSHEY BAIT 'SY JOUGH LAJER  

MELANCHOLY DROWNED IN A GLASS
OF STRONG DRINK.
[LITERAL TRANSLATION.]

 

NY bee-jee groamagh arragh,
Cur jee klarail ergooyl,
Eh ta smooinaght er mairagh,
Te cheau laa mie ersooyl.
Cha vel eh agh lhome,
Cha vel eh agh lhome,
Nagh vel giu as ceau seaghyn ersooyl.

Te dooinney dangeyragh dy akin
'Sy cheer ta shin nish ayn,
Tra ny nabooiityn troggal y cappan,
Ta boirit foast ayns c chione,
As ooilley yn vea shoh
Goaill doot ny choud bio,
Dy n'jlase e argid ro-ghoan.

She ta'n eirinagh 'screeney nagh vel girree,
Choud as ta'n cheeaght traaue,
Lhig da'n boddagh d:y moghey girree,
Son doccar myr ta'n traa cheau.
Choud's ta famlagh 'sy traie,
Bee oarn ayns yn 'aaie,
Ver orrin arrane y ghoaill daue.

Tra hig yn oarn hooin 'sy vagher,
Nee mayd jerkal son chaart ny kione
Eisht, ven-y-thie, jeeagh nagh dagh 'er Rouyr jeh yn ushtey y hoyrt ayn.
Veih'n s'ooasle farrane,
Ta cheet yn oarn vane,
Te chur er sleih creeney ve goan.

Nish ayns y thie licen dooin,
As lhig da'n lhin ve lane.
Son she shen nee cur dooin
Chreenaght ayns nyn goan.
Te ooashley dan ree,
Te ooashley da'n ree,
Dy chur er e kione lheid y crooid.

 

BE not gloomy any more,
Put ye trouble behind,
He that thinks on the morrow,
He casts a good day away.
He is but a fool,
He is but a fool,
That does not drink and cast troubles away.

He's a dangerous man to behold -
In the country we are now in,
When the neighbours are raising the cup,
That is still troubled in his head,
And during all this life,
Doubting long as he lives,
His cash will grow too scarce.

T'is the wisest farmer that does not rise,
As long as the plough ploughs,
Let the labourer rise up early,
For labour as the time passes.
While there 's wrack on the shore,
There 'll be barley in the flat,
T'will make us sing g song to them.
When the barley comes to us in the field,

Shall we not want a quart a-piece ?
Then, house-wife, see that each man
Does not put too much water in.
From the noblest scource
Comes the white barley,
It makes wise people to be scarce.

Now in the house fill for us,
And let the flagon he full,
For 'tis that will put for us
Wisdom in our words.
It's an honour for the king,
It's an honour for the king,
To put on his head such a crown.

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Any comments, errors or omissions gratefully received The Editor
HTML Transcription © F.Coakley , 2000