Tekster: The Corrs. Buachaill On Eirne.

Buachaill A?n A?irne mA© 's bhrA©agfainn cailA­n deas A?g
NA­ iarrfainn bA? sprA© lA©i tA? mA© fhA©in saibhir go leor
'S liom Corcaigh da mhA©id A©, dhA? thaobh
a' ghleanna 's TA­r Eoghain
'S mura n-athraA­ mA© bA©asaA­ 's mA© n' t-oidhr'
ar Chontae Mhaigh Eo

Rachaidh mA© 'mA?rach ag dhA©anamh leanna fA?n choill
Gan choite gan bA?d gan grA?innA­n brach' ar bith liom
Ach duilliA?r na gcraobh mar A©adaigh leapa os mo chionn
'S A?rA? sheacht m'anam dA©ag thA? 's tA? 'fA©achaint orm anall

Buachailleacht bA?, mo leo, nA?r chleacht mise ariamh
Ach ag imirt 's ag A?l le h'A?gmhnA? deasa an tsliabh
MA? chaill mA© mo stA?r nA­ moide gur chaill mA© mo chiall
A's nA­ mA? liom do phA?g nA?'n bhrA?g atA?im ag caitheamh le bliain

Translation

I'm a boy from Lough Erne and I could charm a nice young girl

I would not ask for her wealth as I am rich enough myself
I own a good part of Cork, two sides of the glen in Tyrone

And not to repeat myself I'm the heir of County Mayo
I will go tomorrow to make ale in the wood
Without a cot without a boat without a pinch of gruel with me
But leaves of the branches as bedclothes over my head
And think well done for you as you watch me from over there

A cowherd, my pet, I've never been accustomed to be
Instead of playing and drinking with the nice young women
on the mountain side
If I lost my riches I probably didn't lose my senses
And your kiss is no more to me now than a shoe worn for a year