Текст песни The Corrs - Brid Og Ni Mhaille
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Is a Bhríd Óg Ní Mháille 'S tú d'fhág mo chroí cráite 'S chuir tú arraingeacha An bháis trí cheartlár mo chroí Tá na mílte fear i ngrá Le d'éadan ciúin náireach Is go dtug tú barr breáchtacht' Ar Thír Oirghiall más fíor Níl ní ar bith is áille Ná'n ghealach os cionn a' tsáile Ná bláth bán na n-airne Bíos ag fás ar an droigheann Ó siúd mar bíos mo ghrá-sa Níos trilsí le breáchtacht Béilín meala na háilleachta' Nach ndearna riamh claon Is buachaill deas óg mé 'Tá triall chun mo phósta 'S ní buan i bhfad beo mé Mura bhfaighidh mé mo mhian A chuisle is a stóirín Déan réidh agus bí romhamsa Cionn deireanach den Domhnach Ar Bhóithrín Dhroim Sliabh Is tuirseach 's brónach A chaithimse an Domhnach Mo hata I’ mo dhorn 'S mé ag osnaíl go trom 'S mé ag amharc ar na bóithre 'Mbíonn mo ghrá-sa ag gabhail ann 'S í ag fear eile pósta Is gan í bheith liom 'S í ag fear eile pósta Is gan í bheith liom Translation Oh Bríd Óg O'Malley You have left my heart breaking You've sent the death pangs Of sorrow to pierce my heart sore A hundred men are craving For your breathtaking beauty You're the fairest of maidens In Oriel for sure No spectacle is fairer Than moonbeams on the harbor Or the sweet scented blossoms Of the sloe on the thorn But my love shines much brighter In looks and in stature That honey-lipped beauty Who never said wrong I'm a handsome young fellow Who is thinking of wedlock But my life will be shortened If I don't get my dear My love and my darling Prepare now to meet me On next Sunday evening On the road to Drum Slieve 'Tis sadly and lonely I pass the time on Sunday My head bowed in sorrow My sights heavy with woe As I gaze upon the byways That my true love walks over Now she's wed to another And left me forlorn |
Bridget is Translation
And you left my heart broken
And you put arrows
Death through my heart
There are thousands of men in love
With a quiet shameful face
You gave a top breathtaking beauty '
If true at Oriel Country
There is nothing beautiful
Over the moon now than a ' seawater
White flower than the sloe
Bios of the thorn grow
Since I love those as bis - in
More trilsí with breathtaking beauty
Honey beauty '
Had never stray
I'm a nice young boy
' My marriage is bound to
' Tis I live far
If I get my wish
A pulse is a Sweetheart
Please be ready and meet me
Sunday evening
On the road to Drum Mountain
Tired ' s sad
A time on Sunday
My hat in ' my fist
' I'm sights heavy with woe
And I look at the road
Walks my love - in at junction there
She is married to another man
I forlorn
She is married to another man
I forlorn
Translation
Oh Young Brigid O'Malley
You have left my heart breaking
You've sent the death pangs
Of sorrow to pierce my heart sore
A hundred men are craving
For your breathtaking beauty
You're the fairest of maidens
In Oriel for sure
No SPECTACLE is fairer
Than moonbeams on the harbor
Or the sweet scented blossoms
Of the sloe on the thorn
But my love shines much brighter
In looks and in stature
That honey - lipped beauty
Who said never wrong
I'm a handsome young fellow
Who is thinking of wedlock
But my life Tomorrow will be shortened
If I do not get my dear
My love and my darling
Prepare now to Meet Me
On next Sunday afternoon
On the road to Slieve Drum
' Tis sadly and lonely
I pass the time on Sunday
My head is bowed in sorrow
My sights heavy with woe
I gaze out upon the byways
That Walks over my true love
Now she's Wed to another
And left me forlorn