Tekster: Clannad. Bunan Bui.

A BhuinneA?n BhuA­ is A© mo chrA? do luA­
Is do chnA?mha sA­nte ar leaca lom'
Is nach dtearn tA? dA­th no dolaidh sa tA­r
Is narbh fhearr leat fA­on nA? uisce poill.
DA? gcuirfeA? scA©ala fA? mo dhA©in
Go raibh tA? i ngA©ibhinn nA? i ndeacair iot'
A? bhainfinnse bA©im ar Loch Mhic an A?in
A fhliuchfadh do bhA©al is do bhrollach sA­os.

NA­ hiad bhur n-A©anlaith atA? mA© ag A©agaoin
An chuach, an traona nA? an chorr-bhreac
Ach an BuinneA?n BuA­, a bhA­ lA?n de chroA­
Is gur cosA?il liom fA©in A© i snua is i ndreach.
BhA­odh sA© ag sA­orA?l na dA­
Is deir daoine go mbA­m ar an nA?s sin seal
Is nA­l braon dA? bhfuighinn nach ligfinn sA­os
Ar fhaitA­os go bhfuighinn fA©in bA?s den tart!

Is A© 'd'iarr mo stA?r orm ligint den A?l
NA? nach mbeinnse beo ach seal beag gearr:
Is A© dA?irt mA© lA©i gur chan sA­ an bhrA©ag
NA? go mb'fhaide do mo shaol an braon seo a fhA?il.
Nach bhfeiceann tA? A©an an phA­obA?in rA©idh
Go dteachaidh sA­ in A©ag den tart ar ball?
Is a dhaoine clA©ibh, fliuchaigA­ bhur mbA©al
NA? nA­ bhfuighidh sibh braon i ndiaidh bhur mbA?is!
Oh Yellow Bittern, alas to see you stretched
And your bones there lying on bare flagstones
You did no harm at all in the country

And would just as prefer ditch water to wine
Had you only sent me a message
That you were in a quandry, in need of a drink
I would have broken the ice on the lake
To wet your beak and all the way down to your breast.

I'm not lamenting your ordinary birds
The cuckoo, the corncrake or the dappled heron
But the yellow bittern of the great heart
Who was just like me in many ways
He was always fond of the sup
And people say I'm fond of a drop myself
Whatever drink comes my way, it's down it goes
For fear that I might one day die of thirst!

And my darling asked me to give up the booze
Or I'd only be alive a short while more,
I told her straight out she was telling a lie
And that the drink extended my life's span.
Don't you see that bird with the smooth neck
That only a while ago perished with the thirst?
Ah, my pleasant people, wet your whistles
Because after death ye won't get a drop!