Coinleach Ghlas An Fhómair [English translation]

On the green stubble-fields of autumn

I saw you, my sweetheart

Nice were your feet in shoes

And wonderful your nimble gait

Your hair the color of roses

And your ringlets tightly plaited

Alas that we're not married

Or on board ship sailing away

The boys around here are

Complaining and getting fired up

And the ones with the high-piled hair

Are making homes for my brown-haired girl

If the King of Spain would

Go abroad with his assembled men

I would trample pasture and wilderness

And I would be with my brown-haired girl

If only my brown-haired girl and I

Were buying cows at the fair

Go and come first love

Until we go over to Gaoth-Bearra

Even if the tops of the branches were parted

And the swan were separated from the waves

That would not separate us

And those who go against us are foolish