  Taken down in Co. Mayo from Michael Mac Rudhraighe. I am sick, sick,No part of me sound; The heart in my middle Dies of its wound, Pining the time When she did stand With me shoulder to shoulder And hand in hand. I travelled west By the little yellow road In the hope I might see Where my Secret abode. White were her two breasts, Red her hair, Guiding the cow And the weaned calf, her care. Until wind flows From this stream west, Until a green plain spreads On the withered crest, The heather above, My heart will not find Kindness from my love. There's a flood in the river Will not ebb till day, And dread on me That my love is away. Can I live a month With my heart's pain Unless she will come And see me again? I drink a measure And I drink to you, I pay, I pay, And I pay for two. Copper for ale And silver for beer— And do you like coming Or staying here? Seosamh mac Cathmhaoil. |
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