Tuirse mo chroí ar a phósadh
'S ar bhuachaillí óige an tsaiol
Nár bhfearr daoife cailí deas leofa
Na bean a mbeadh puntaí léi
Oíche mhór fhada bheith díºcaí
Nár dheas a bheith ag síºgradh léi
B'faras a chaillteach bhíos srannfaí
Is ag tarraingt an phlaincéad léi
Nuair a théim go tí faire á tórraimh
'Sé d'fiafras an óig bhean díom
'Chormaic a bhfuil tíº do phósadh
Nó nach 'aithníonn tíº an óig fhear groí
'Sé duirt se 'gus deirim féin leofa
Go minic go mór faraor
'S an mhéid acu 'tá gan pósadh
Gur acu 'tá spóirt a' tsaiol
í“ rachaidh mé scilleadh 's a chaitheadh
Go Baile na hiarr fhad siar
'S bhéarfaidh mé ' ruaig sin go hírainn
'S ar and ainnir chráidh mo chroí
Dár a leoga mar rinneadh mo phósadh
Ní mó á gur cealgadh mo chroí
'S rachaidh mé arís na Róimhe
Go bhfaigh mé cead pósta arís
I'm tired to my heart of marriage
And of the young men of this world
They'd be better off with a nice girl
Than a woman who had money
To stay awake the whole long night
Wouldn't it be fine to be sporting with her
Instead of the old woman who snores
And pulls the blanket to her
When I go to a wake-house or funeral
All the young women ask me
Cormac, are you getting married
Or do you see that youth is wearing away?
I said to them and I still say
That I do indeed see it, alas
And those who aren't married
Have all the fun in life
I will go complaining and chattering
To far in the west
I'll take a trip to Aron
To the young woman who has tormented my heart
By the book, if my marriage has been made
It's not that my heart has been bound
And I'll go off to Rome
To get permission to marry again