Young Donal / Dhónaill óig

H/t conor finn Young Donal is sung beautifully by Karan last stem not ending in ‘e’ Casey. Also; Karan Casey as opposed to Matheson that is stated in the video.

The following version (worded differently) is sung in Irish (As Gaeilge)


A Dhónaill óig, má théir thar farraige,
Tabhair mé fhéin leat ‘s ná déan do dhearmad.
Beidh agat férín lá aonaigh ‘s margaidh,
Gus iníon rí Gréige mar chéile leapan agat.

Gheall tú dhomsa ach rinne tú bréag liom,
Go mbeithfeá romham ag cró na gcaorach.
Lig mé fead ort is dhá chéad béiceach,
Ach ní bhfuair mé aon fhreagra ach na huain ag méileach.

Thug mé grá dhuit is mé beag bídeach,
Chuir mé barr air is mé mór millteach.
Niorbh é sin an grá a thug an t-uan don chaora,
Ach grá buan daingean nach féidir a scaoileadh.

Siúd é an Domhnach a dtug mé grá dhuit,
An Domhnach díreach roimh Dhomhnach Cásca.
Is tú ar do ghlúin ag léamh na Páise,
‘Sea bhí mo dhá shúil a’ síorthabhairt grá dhuit.

Bhain tú thoir agus bhain tú thiar dhíom,
Bhain tú an ghealach gheal is an ghrian dhíom.
Bhain tú an croí a bhí i lár mo chléibhe dhíom,
Agus is rímhór m’fhaitíos gur bhain tú Dia dhíom.

English translation:

O Donal Og, if you cross the ocean,
Take me with you and do not forget.
From fair day and market you’ll have a portion
And the Greek king’s daughter will share your bed.

You promised it but to me you were lying,
You’d be before me where the sheep were keeping
I whistled and yelled for you, two hundred cryings,
But all I heard were the young lambs bleatings.

I gave you love when I was small and tiny,
I gave you more when I was big and mighty,
Not the love of the lamb for the sheep,
But an enduring love that was yours to keep.

It was a Sunday on the day I fell for you,
It was on the Sunday before Easter Day.
You were on your knees the Passion reading,
And my two eyes clung to you with love for aye.

You took what is before me and what is behind me,
And the bright sun and the moon you have truly taken.
You have taken the heart out of my bosom’s cradle,
And God Himself, if I am not mistaken.

It was when listening to an interview given by Colm Tóibín that I was prompted to post these two exquisite videos. Cheers Colm!

(Amhránaí: Elaine Cormican ón ghrúpa, Liadan)Seo leagan sa Bhéarla le amhránaí eile / here is a version in English by another singer:


Boolavogue – Anthony Kearns

Anthony Kearns from Enniscorthy singing Boolavogue.

At Boolavogue as the sun was setting
O’er the bright May meadows of Shelmalier
A rebel hand set the heather blazing
and brought the neighbours from far and near

Then Father Murphy from old Kilcormack
Spurred up the rock with a warning cry:
“Arm! Arm!” he cried, “For I’ve come to lead you
for Ireland’s freedom we’ll fight or die!”

He lead us on against the coming soldiers
And the cowardly Yeomen we put to flight
‘Twas at the Harrow the boys of Wexford
Showed Bookey’s regiment how men could fight

Look out for hirelings, King George of England
Search every kingdom where breathes a slave
For Father Murphy of County Wexford
Sweeps o’er the land like a mighty wave

We took Camolin and Enniscorthy
And Wexford storming drove out our foes
‘Twas at Slieve Coilte our pikes were reeking
With the crimson blood of the beaten Yeos

At Tubberneering and Ballyellis
Full many a Hessian lay in his gore
Ah! Father Murphy had aid come over
The Green Flag floated from shore to shore!

At Vinegar Hill, O’er the pleasant Slaney
Our heroes vainly stood back to back
and the Yeos at Tullow took Father Murphy
and burnt his body upon a rack

God grant you glory, brave Father Murphy
And open Heaven to all your men
the cause that called you may call tomorrow
in another fight for the Green again

Buy “Boolavogue” on:

I recall some years ago my late uncle (when he was home on holidays from Japan- sitting in the old homestead stone-floored kitchen that belonged to his ancestors since the early 1800s) telling me that we we were distantly related to Father Murphy from Old Kilcormack.

I once went to a concert in St. Aidan’s Cathedral. Anthony Kearns, as well as Frank Patterson R.I.P. were on the agenda.

Colm Tóibín

z5341.inddI’ve just been listening to some captivating interviews Colm Tóibín (an Irish novelist, short story writer, essayist, playwright, journalist, critic and poet.) gave to various international writers’ interest groups. Colm is such a passionate speaker.

I thoroughly enjoyed his short reading of Brooklyn (novel). It tells the story of Eilish, from Enniscorthy, Co. Wexford.

Here is the beautiful song Dhónaill óig that is mentioned by Colm in the beginning of the interview.