Unique Word Count: 169
Music composed by: Traditional
Words written by: Traditional
Lyrics:
Dreoilín a fuaras-sa thíos ar an ínse,
Fé bhráid carraige 's carabhat síod' air,
Do thugas-sa chúibh-se é a lanú 'n tí seo
'Gus gura seacht fearr um an dtaca so arís sibh.
Dreoilín a thugas-sa chút-sa a Dhiarmuid,
Ní mar dhúil i lionn ná iarsma
Ach mar dhúil sa tsúgradh d'iarraidh
Do bhíodh 'n ár ndúthaigh lá cinn bhliana.
Dreoilín a thugas-sa chút-sa a Shiobhán,
Ní mar dhúil i lionn ná 'n arán
Ach mar dhúil sa tsúgradh ' chimeád
Bhíodh 'nár ndúthaigh Lá 'le Stiofáin.
Dreoilín a fuaras-sa i gcarn cloch,
'Gus ar neoin cár bhfearr é ' fháil i dtor?
Do chaitheas-sa mo mhaide leis is bhriseas a chos;
Éirigh id shuí a bhean a' tí is líon chúinn deoch.
Is muar an trua an dreoilín i mbarra 'n chnoic,
An bháisteach sa tárr air, an síon is an sioc,
Ag imeacht ar na bántaibh, a chosa do bhí geárrtha
Agus bríste gan bhásta air 's is fuar é a dhriuch.
D'imigh an dreoilín anonn thar muir,
Ó lúib na carraige uainn de rith
Is mó duine a' faire air ó Luan go Satharn,
Gan ball ná baile aige ach scáth an tuir.
Dreoilín óir an dreoilín,
'S beidh ór i bpóca an dreoilín;
Dreolín airgid fé bhínn fhallainge
Agus Mac a' Bhanba an Dreoilín.
Féachaíg 's do gheobha' sibh Dreoilín glic
A thiocfaidh le fórsaibh aniar 's anoir.
Cuirtear an chiúrach arís 'n ár gciúnn
Agus ólfaimíd-na sláinte 'n tsár-fhir ghlic.
'S beidh ór fós ag an ndreoilín,
'S beidh ór i stór ag an ndreoilín,
'S beidh ór ar a chóta is ór ar a bhróga
'Gus fíon dá ól 'na sheomraí gil.
Is árd é an dreoilín i mbarra 'n tuir.
Is mear is is seoltha a bheidh a shliocht,
A' dul go tigh an ósta 's an joga muar lán romhainn,
'Gus ólfaimíd-ne sláinte 'n tsár-fhir iniubh
Machine Translation:
A wren that I found below on the ledge,
With a rock in front and a silken scarf on it,
I gave it to you to fill this house
'So that you may be seven times better this time again.
A wren that I brought to you, Diarmuid,
Not for a desire for beer or a piece of bread
But for a desire to play
That used to be in our country on New Year's Day.
A wren that I brought to you, Siobhan,
Not for a desire for beer or bread
But for a desire to play 'keep'
That used to be in our country on Stiofáin's Day.
A wren that I found in a pile of stones,
'And where better to find it than in a bush?
I threw my stick at it and broke its leg;
The lady of the house got up and filled a cup of drink.
The wren on the hilltop is a sea of misery,
The rain is on him, the wind and the frost,
Walking on the plains, his legs were cut
And he has trousers without a waistcoat and it is cold in his cold.
The wren has gone over the sea,
From the bend of the rock away from us running
More people watch him from Monday to Saturday,
With no home or home for him but the shadow of the tower.
The wren is a golden wren,
And there will be gold in the wren's pocket;
A silver wren under the edge of a cloak
And the wren is the Son of the Wren.
Look and you will find a clever wren
Who will come with forces from the west and the east.
The wren is placed again in our silence
And we will drink the health of the wise men.
And the wren will have gold still,
And the wren will have gold in store,
And there will be gold on his coat and gold on his shoes
And wine to drink in his white chambers.
An Dreoilín – Leagan The Little Dublin Singers
Unique Word Count: 75
Music composed by: Traditional
Words written by: Traditional
Lyrics:
Dreoilín a fuaras-sa thíos ar an ínse,
Fé bhráid carraige 's carabhat síod' air,
Do thugas-sa chúibh-se é a lanú 'n tí seo
'Gus gura seacht fearr um an dtaca so arís sibh.
D'imigh an dreoilín anonn thar muir,
Ó lúib na carraige uainn de rith
Is mó duine a' faire air ó Luan go Satharn,
Gan ball ná baile aige ach scáth an tuir.
Is árd é an dreoilín i mbarra 'n tuir.
Is mear is is seoltha a bheidh a shliocht,
A' dul go tigh an ósta 's an joga muar lán romhainn,
'Gus ólfaimíd-ne sláinte 'n tsár-fhir iniubh
Machine Translation:
A wren that I found below on the ledge,
With a rock in front and a silken scarf on it,
I gave it to you to fill this house
'So that you may be seven times better this time again.
The wren has gone over the sea,
From the bend of the rock away from us running
More people watch him from Monday to Saturday,
With no home or home for him but the shadow of the tower.
And the wren will have gold still,
And the wren will have gold in store,
And there will be gold on his coat and gold on his shoes
And wine to drink in his white chambers.
Notes: The Little Dublin Singers sing verses 1, 6, and 10 of the possible ten verses in this song.