Lyrics of Amhrán Pheadair Bhreathnaigh - Altan

Amhrán Pheadair Bhreathnaigh (original)

Tráth chuaigh mé seal tamailt ar cuairt
Gur bhreatnaigh mé uaim an spéir
Thart fá na hoileáin ó thuaidh
Mar bheadh eilit agus cú 'na diaidh
'Sé deirfeadh gach duine fán chuan
Tráth thuirling mé anuas fán ché
Aithnim go maith ar do ghruaim
Gur fear thú a bhfuil ruaig do dhiaidh
Casadh domh cailín dheas óg
Ach má casadh sí a labhair go géar
Más fear thú a bhain do mhnaoi óig
Cha mholaim rómhór do «thrade»
Chonaic mé fear ar tír mór
Is é ag imeacht gan bhróg inné
Is dóigh liom gur tusa an fear óg
Is go bhfuil ort an tóir do dhiaidh
D’fhreagair mé an ainnir dheas óg
Mar ghlac sí go mór mo scéal
'Stad do do mhagadh níos mó
Nó ní duine den tseort sin mé
Ach suigh thusa anall I mo chomhair
Is bí ag an nós liom féin
Nó rachaidh mé os coinne mo shróin
Amach ar tír mór le léim
Thit muid I dtuirse 's I mbrón
Is d’fhiafraigh an óigbhean díom
Cá bhfaighimis gloine le hól
A thógfas an brón dar gcroí
Tá teach beag ar leataobh an róid
Agus coinníonn sé I gcónaí braon
Gabh thusa gus «rappal» ar an bhord
Is ní dhíolfaidh do phócaí phingin
Bhí biotáilte fairsing go leor
A raibh beagán 'á ól sa tír'
'S dá dtarrnóinnse Galún Uí Dhomhnaill
B’fhurast mo scór a dhíol

(translation)

Once I visited for a while
That I looked down at the sky
Around the northern islands
Like an elk and a hound after him
Everyone would say about the harbor
Once I landed around the pier
I know your gloom well
You are a man who is being chased
Turns to me a pretty young girl
But if she turns she speaks sharply
If you are a man related to your young wife
I do not highly recommend your «thrade»
I saw a man on a mainland
He is leaving without a shoe yesterday
I think you are the young man
The pursuit of success is what you need
I answered the young fair maiden
Because she really took my story
'Stop your mockery anymore
Or I'm not that kind of person
But you sit back in front of me
Be in the habit of being myself
Or I'll go opposite my nose
Out on the mainland to jump
We fell into weariness and sorrow
The young lady asked me
Where would we get a glass to drink
Which will lift the sadness of our hearts
There is a small house by the roadside
And it always keeps dripping
You go to «rappal» on the table
And your pockets will not sell a penny
Spirits were quite extensive
A little 'drinking in the country'
And if I were to draw a Gallon O'Donnell
My score was easy to sell