Testo di Mná Na Héireann (The Women Of Ireland)

There's a woman in ireland who'd give me a gem and my fill to drink There's a woman in ireland to whom my singing is sweeter than the music of strings There's a woman in ireland who would much prefer me leaping Than laid in the clay and my belly under the sod There's a woman in ireland who'd envy me if I got naught but a kiss From a woman at a fair, isn't it strange, and the love I have for them There's a woman I'd prefer to a battalion, and a hundred of them whom I will never get And an ugly, swarthy man with no english has a beautiful girl There's a woman who would say that if I walked with her I'd get the gold And there's the woman of the shirt whose mien is better than herds of cows With a woman who would deafen baile an mhaoir and the plain of tyrone And I see no cure for my disease but to give up the drink