Coinleach Glas an Fhomhair - Cantoma Mix

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
 Laughing and getting bold
 And the people of the high straw?
 Are making? of my brown girl
 If the King of Spain would
 Go abroad with his assembled men
 I would flatten grass and rank grass
 And I would be with my brown girl
 Buying cows at the fair
 If I were? and my brown girl
 Go and come first love
 Until we go over to Gaoth-Bearra
 Until we separate from each other
 The tops of the branches and the swan
 from the waves?
 That won't separate us
 And it's only folly for you to put it?
 I wrote a letter
 To my sweetheart and a sharp complaint
 She sent it back to me
 That her heart was inside me.
 Compose the artsswannoble person?
 Finer than silk or bird feathers
 Heavy is my sigh
 When I think of being apart from her.
 What I heard on Sunday
 As conversation among the women
 That she was going to be married
 To a young man from the place.
 Sweetheart take my advice
 And this Autumn stay as you are
 And don't tell anyone, my love,
 That you are my love.