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Lyrics: |
English Translation: |
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Is na finne prátaí |
The fine potatoes |
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Is a smól buí orthu |
A yellow blight is on them |
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Is ár __ leata le hocras |
And our __ with the hunger |
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Is ní fada a bheimis beo |
It is not long that we will be alive |
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Táimid caillte go deo |
We are lost forever |
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Is faoin bhfód a bheidh muintir Mhaigh Eo |
And underneath the sod will be the people of Mayo |
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Curfá: |
Chorus (after each verse): |
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Ochón, ochón, ochón |
Alas, alas, alas |
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Ochón aimsir an droch shaoil |
Woe, time of the poor life |
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Ochón, ochón, ochón |
Alas, alas, alas |
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Ochón an Gorta Mhór |
Woe, the Great Famine |
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Tá bean thuas i mBreatain |
A woman is up in Britain |
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Gan cluas ár ndaoine |
Without an ear for our people |
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Is níl súil ár ndeora ach Banríon na bhflaitheas |
And no one sees our tears but the Lady of Paradise |
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Táimid breoite le tinneas |
We are sick with illness |
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Gan aon rud le n-ithe |
Without anything to eat |
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Is ár mias is lín imithe thar lear |
And our food-vessels and flax are gone over the sea |
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Tá na daoine briste |
The people are broken |
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Buartha is scaipthe le gaoth |
Pained and scattered to the wind |
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Is ár leanaí sceantaí ar thaobh na mbóthar |
And our children are discarded on the side of the road |
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Níl talamh a roinnt |
Our land is not divided |
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Níl fad í le baint |
It is not long since it has been harvested |
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Ach an féar fada fásach ag fás orainn |
Nothing but the long wild grass is growing over us |
