Irisleabhar na Gaedhilge/Imleabhar 5/Uimhir 3/Cearbhall Buidhe na n-Abhrán

by Peadar Ua Laoghaire

[ 42 ]

CORK GAELIC.

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[ 42 ] Cearḃall Buiḋe na n-Aḃrán.	[ 44 ] TRANSLATION. CARROLL BUIDHE OF THE SONGS.
[ 42 ]File b’eaḋ Cearḃall Buiḋe na n-Aḃrán. Bhí sé lá ag dul go Baile Choitín ⁊ ḃuail fear ar an mbóṫar uime dárḃ’ ainm Taḋg Ruaḋ.	[ 44 ]Carroll Buidhe of the songs was a poet. He was one day going to Ballycotton, and he met a man named Foxy Tim:
[ 42 ]C. Dia ’s Muire ḋuit, a Thaiḋg.	[ 44 ]C. God and Mary with you, Tim.
[ 42 ]T. Dia ’s Muire ḋuit a’s Pádraig, a Chearḃaill. An fada atá do ṫriall a Chearḃaill.	[ 44 ]T. God and Mary and Patrick with you, Carroll. How far is your journey, Carroll?
[ 42 ]C. Ní’l aċt go Cáiteaċ, a Thaiḋg. An fada atá do ṫriall féin?	[ 44 ]C. Only to the Caiteach, Tim. How far is your own journey?
[ 42 ]T. Mhaise ní’l aċt soir ann-so go crois an Teampuill. Beiḋmíd ag baint ċoirce Dé Luain se ċuġainn, le congnaṁ Dé, ⁊ táim ag dul soir ’feuċaint an ḃfeudfainn mioṫal[1] do ċruinniuġaḋ.	[ 44 ]T. Wisha, only eastwards here to the church cross. We will be cutting down corn on Monday next, with the help of God, and I am going east to see could I collect a body of reapers.
[ 42 ]C. Ní deirim ná gur maiṫ an t-am é. Tá an t-arḃar naċ mór bainte ins gaċ aon ḃall, ⁊ táid na fir d’éis teaċt a ḃaile.	[ 44 ]C. I think it is a good time. The corn is cut down everywhere, and the men are after coming home.
[ 42 ]T. Is fíor ḋuit. Ḃíos ag caint aréir le Taḋg Ua hÉalluiġṫe. Ḃí sé d’éis teaċt a ḃaile ó ’n mBlárnain. Duḃairt sé go ḃfaca sé ṫusa ann ⁊ go raiḃ beirt no triúr ann nár aiṫniġeadar ṫú, ⁊ gur ḟiarfuiġ duine aco de ḋuine eile cé ’rḃ’ é an fear beag buiḋe. Do ṫugais-se fé ndeara an ċeist, ⁊ ḃí tosaċ freagra agat mar seo:	[ 44 ]T. ’Tis true for you. I was speaking last night to Tim Healy. He was after coming home from Blarney. He said he saw you there, and that there were two or three there, who did not know you, and that one of them asked another “who was the yellow little man.” You perceived the question, and you had the first of the answer in this way:
[ 42 ] Misi Cearḃall Buiḋe na n-Aḃrán; Ḋeunḟainn steanncán ar ṫeudaiḃ, Ḋeunḟainn cíor ṁín ⁊ roilleán, Ċuirfinn meaṫán i dtóin ċréiṫre; Imrim báire ⁊ fáisgim iall im’ ḃróig,[2] Aċt Dia lem’ láiṁ! ní ḋeárna aċt criaṫar fós.	[ 44 ] “I am yellow Carroll of the songs; I could play a piece of music on harp-strings; I could make a tine-comb and a riddle; I could put a fibre in the bottom of a sieve. I playa goal, and tighten a thong in my shoe. But, God bless my hand! I have made as yet but one sieve.”
[ 42 ]C. Ha ha! b’ ḟíor do Thaḋg an méid sin. Bíonn árd-ċaiṫeaṁ aimsire i gcoṁnuiḋe againn sa’ Bhlárnain.	[ 44 ]C. That, ha, ha, was true for Tim. We do always have great fun at Blarney.
[ 42 ]T. Feuċ, a Chearḃaill. Bíonn iongnaḋ mór orm féin cionnus ḋeineann siḃ an ḟiliḋeaċt so. Dá gcaiṫinn mo ċiall leis, ní ṫiocfaḋ liom aon dán aṁáin do ċur le ċéile.	[ 44 ]T. Look here, Carroll, there is always great wonder on myself how ye make this poetry. If I were to wear out my sense with it, I could not put one together.
[ 42 ]C. Ní mar sin atá, a Thaiḋg, aċt bíonn filiḋeaċt agat dá ḋeunaṁ gaċ lá ded’ ṡaoġal ⁊ gaċ tráṫ de’n lá, dá ḃfeudfá é ṫaḃairt fé ndeara ⁊ é ċur le ċéile.	[ 44 ]C. Not so, Tim, but you are making poetry every day of your life, and every hour of the day, if you could perceive it, and place it together.
[ 42 ]T. Is fear magaiḋ ṫú, a Chearḃaill. Níor ḋeineas aon ḃlúire filiḋeaċta riaṁ, ⁊ ní luġa[3] ná ṫáinig aon ḟocal riaṁ as mo ḃeul go ḃfeudfaḋ aoinne’ eile filiḋeaċt do ḃaint as.	[ 44 ]T. You are a funny man, Carroll; I did not make one bit of poetry ever, and neither did any word ever come out of my mouth that any other person could take poetry out of it.
[ 42 ]C. An fada as so go Baile Choitín.	[ 44 ]C. How far is it from here to Ballycotton?
[ 42 ]T. Mar deurṫá leaṫ ṁíle.	[ 44 ]T. As you would say half a mile.
[ 42 ]C. Cuirfead cárt leanna leat go mbeiḋ dán deunta agat sul a mbeiḋmíd i mBaile Choitín.	[ 44 ]C. I’ll bet you a quart of beer that you will have a dán made before we shall be at Ballycotton.
[ 43 ]T. Ariú fiannuiḋeaċt! Fágaim le huḋaċt,[4] a Chearḃaill, gur ċuireas, tá fiċe bliaḋain ó ṡoin, ċum aḃráin do ḋeunaṁ ag molaḋ an tSeanġarrḋa. “Seanġarrḋa an ċeóil,” ar-sa misi, ⁊ dá ḃfaġainn Éire, ní ḟeudfainn dul mós sia air.	[ 44 ]T. Arra, nonsense! I confess, Carroll, that I tried, there are twenty years since, to compose a song in praise of Shanagarry—“Shanagarry of the music,” said I, and if I got Ireland I could not go further on it.
[ 43 ]C. An gcuirfir an geall?	[ 44 ]C. Will you lay the wager?
[ 43 ]T. Cuirfead ⁊ fáilte, ⁊ ní misde ḋam. Beiḋ ort-sa díol.	[ 44 ]T. I will, and welcome, and so I may, you will have to pay.
[ 43 ]C. Fan leat go fóil. Aċt feicimís cad tá ag Eumann Óg dá ḋeunaṁ ann-so ṫall.	[ 44 ]C. Wait a while. But let us see what young Ned is doing over the way.
[ 43 ]T. Tá fál aige dá ḋeunaṁ ar a ġáirdín, agus is beag an tairḃe ḋó sain, mar ’nuair ḟeoċfaid na saileaċa sain, feudfaid na gaḃair gaḃáil tríoṫa. Dia ’s Muire ḋuit, a Eumoinn!	[ 44 ]T. He is making a hedge on his garden, and it is little good for him, for when those willows wither, the goats will be able to get through them. God and Mary with you, Ned!
[ 43 ]E. Dia ’s Muire ’s Pádraig ḋuit, a Ṫaiḋg! ⁊ duit-si leis, a Chearḃaill! an ḃ-fuil aon sgeul nuaḋ agaiḃ? Cad uime go ḃfuilir ag croṫaḋ do ċinn, a Thaiḋg?	[ 44 ]N. God and Mary and Patrick with you, Tim, and with you also, Carroll. Have you any news? At what are you shaking your head, Tim?
[ 43 ]T. Táim ag croṫaḋ mo ċinn, a Eumoinn, mar is olc an fál an tsaileaċ úr sain.	[ 44 ]T. I am shaking my head, Ned, because that fresh willow is a bad hedge.
[ 43 ]E. Ní’l leiġeas air. Ní’l a ṁalairt[5] agam.	[ 44 ]N. It can't be helped, I have not any other.
[ 43 ]T. Ó, stad a ḋuine! Ná cuir an cuaile críon sa’ ḃfál! Tá an rud úr olc a ḋao- ṫain, aċt deunfaiḋ sé an gnó go ceann tamaill.	[ 44 ]T. Oh! stop, man, don't put the withered sapling into the hedge. The fresh thing is bad enough, but it will do the business for a while.
[ 43 ]c. Teanam,[6] a Thaiḋg, go ḃfaiġead mo ċárt leanna uait!	[ 44 ]C. Come along, Tim, that I may get my quart of beer from you.
[ 43 ]E. Cad ar a ṡon, a Chearḃaill, go ḃfuil cárt leanna le faġáil agat ó Thaḋg?	[ 44 ]N. For what reason, Carroll, are you to get a quart of beer from Tim?
[ 43 ]T. Geall, má ’sé do ṫoil é, do ċuir sé liom go mbeiḋeaḋ dán filiḋeaċta deunta agam sul a mbeiḋmís ar aon i mBaile Choitín,—misi, nár ḋein aon dán fili- ḋeaċta riaṁ, níḋ naċ iongnaḋ!	[ 44 ]T. A bet, if you please, he has made with me, that I would have a dán of poetry made before we would be both in Ballycotton—I that never made a dán of poetry, and no wonder!
[ 43 ]E. Tá eagla orm, a Chearḃaill, go mbeiḋ ort díol an turus so.	[ 44 ]N. I am afraid, Carroll, that you will have to pay this turn.
[ 43 ]C. Teanam ort, má ’seaḋ, ⁊ bíoḋ do ċuid de’n deoċ agat.	[ 44 ]C. Come along, if it is, and have your share of the drink.
[ 43 ]E. B’ ḟéidir nárḃ’ ḟearra ḋam riaṁ é.[7]	[ 44 ]N. Perhaps it may be as well for me (perhaps it was never better for me).
[ 43 ]T. Is fíor ḋuit. Ní’l puinn maiṫeasa idir láṁaiḃ agat.	[ 45 ]T. It is true for you. There is not much between hands with you.
[ 43 ]E. Ní’l meas mór ag Taḋg ar mo ġnó.	[ 45 ]N. Tim has not a great estimate on my work.
[ 43 ]T. Dá mbeiḋeaḋ fál le deunaṁ agam, baḋ ḋóiġ liom go gcuirfinn draiġean nó sgeaċ ġeal ann. B’ ḟearr liom sgoṫán aitinn féin ’ná an tsaileaḋ sain. Aċt cad é seo ag Uilliam Ua Buaċalla dá ḋeunaṁ le n-a ṡeisriġ? Cad tá ort anois, a Uilliaim? An ḃfuil do ċeuċda briste?	[ 45 ]T. If I had a hedge to make, I think I would put black thorn or white thorn into it. I should even prefer a bush of furze to that willow. But what is this William Buckley is doing with his team of horses? What is the matter with you now, William? Is your plough broken?
[ 43 ]U. Ní’l, a Thaiḋg, aċt tá mo ċuing briste, ⁊ táim ag casaḋ le gad do ċur uirṫi.	[ 45 ]W. No, Tim, but my whippletree is broken, and I am trying to put a gad upon it.
[ 43 ]T. Stad, stad, a Uilliaim! táir dá ċur suas ar an dtuaṫal. Cas an gad de ċúl na cuinge, ⁊ beiḋ an greim is fearr aige. Sin é! Cuir snaiḋm anois air.	[ 45 ]T. Stop! stop! William, you are putting it on the wrong way. Twist the gad off the end (pole) of the whippletree, and it will have the best grip. There! put a knot on it now."
[ 43 ]C. Feuċ, a Thaiḋg! naċ breaġ ḟeuċann an fairrge indiu? Ní ḟeadar cia an áit as a dtáinig an long ṁór úd ṡoir.	[ 45 ]C. Look, Tim, does not the sea look beautiful to-day. I don't know whence came that ship yonder.
[ 43 ]T. Ní raiḃ sí ann andé. Feuċ airiú, a Chearḃaill! naċ fada ó stiúir na luinge an bád beag?	[ 45 ]T. She was not there yesterday. See, aroo, Carroll, is not the boat far from the stern of the ship?
[ 43 ]C. Is fada, a Thaiḋg, ⁊ is maiṫ an ṁaise agan é![8] Tá an dán críoċnuiġṫe agat- sa, ⁊ mo ċárt leanna beirṫe agam-sa.	[ 45 ]C. It is, Tim, and well it has become you, the dán is finished by you, and my quart of beer won by me.
[ 43 ]T. An ar buile ataoi, a Chearḃaill? Cad é an dán?	[ 45 ]T. Is it mad you are, Carroll—what dán?
[ 43 ]C. Éist liom. Ní’l i ḃfad ó duḃrais le hEumonn óg. “Is olc an fál an tsaileaċ úr.”	[ 45 ]C. Listen to me. There is not long since you said to young Ned: “A bad hedge is the green willow.”
[ 43 ]T. Duḃart, ⁊ ní ’l puinn filiḋeaċta sa’ tsailiġ.	[ 45 ]T. I said so, and there is not much poetry in the willow.
[ 43 ]C. Ann-sain do liúġais air, “Ná cuir an cuaile críon sa’ ḃfál.”	[ 45 ]C. Then you shouted at him: “Don't put the withered sapling in the hedge.”
[ 43 ]T. Agus cá ḃfuil an ḟiliḋeaċt sa’ méid sin?	[ 45 ]T. And where is the poetry in that much.
[ 43 ]C. Bíoḋ foiġne agat. Duḃrais ann-sain le hUilliam Ua Buaċalla, “Cas an gad de ċúl na cuinge.” Agus anois beag[9] duḃrais liom-sa, “Naċ fada ó stiúir na luinge an bád?” Níor ḋeineas féin riaṁ dán is deise ’ná é. Feuċ— “Is olc an fál an tsaileaċ úr; Ná cuir an cuaile críon sa’ ḃfál; Cas an gad de ċúl na cuinge; Naċ fad’ o stiúir na luinge an bád!”	[ 45 ]C. Have patience. You then said to William Buckley, “Twist the gad over the end of the whippletree,” and just now you said to me, “How far the boat is from the stern of the ship.” I myself never made a better dán than it. Look (he quotes the lines again).
[ 43 ]T. Dar fiaḋ, a Chearḃaill, ní ’l teóra leat! Agus as mo ḃeul féin an uile ḟocal de. Tá an geall buaiḋte agat glan. [ 44 ]Teanaiḋ ⁊ téiḋeaḋ an deoċ timċioll. Feuċ, a Ċearḃaill. Baḋ ḋóiġ liom go raiḃ an léim úd ro-ṁór ó “ċúl na cuinge” go “stiúir na luinge.”	[ 45 ]T. By the deer! Carroll, there are no bounds to you. And it was out of my own mouth every word of it come. You have won the bet clean. Come ye along and let the drink go round. Look here, Carroll, I should think that jump was rather big from the end of the whippletree of the stern of the ship.
[ 44 ]C. Tusa ṫug an léim sin. B’éigean daṁ-sa ṫú do leanaṁaint.	[ 45 ]C. It was you that gave that jump. It was necessary for me to follow you.
[ 44 ]T. Am basa,[10] tá agat arís! Ní ’l aon ṁait ḃeiṫ leat.	[ 45 ]T. Ambossa! you have scored again. There is no use in being at you.

[ 44 ]

Notes.

1.   Mioṫal, more correctly meiṫeal, a band of reapers. The word is found in this sense in the Seanċus Mór, one of the oldest works in the language. It was used by an Irish-speaking witness at a Connaught assize a few years ago, and nobody in court was found able to translate it.
2.   This seems to imply great dexterity; a doubtful boast, still I must give it as I got.
3.   Ní luġa ná, a common idiom to express the second of two negatives: níor laḃair Seaġán drud. ní luġa ná ċuir sé tor de. John did not speak a syllable, no less than he put a move from him (= neither did he move); níor laḃras leis, agus ní luġa ná laḃair seisean liom-sa, I did not speak to him, no more did he speak to me.
4.   Fágaim le huḋaċt “I leave by will,” i.e. I solemnly declare.
5.   A ṁalairt “its exchange,” i.e., anything instead of it.
6.   Teanaim come (thou) along! teanaíḋ come (ye), along! Teanaimís, let us come along; teanaim ort (= tart ?) come away! teanaíḋ oraiḃ (= taraiḃ?) come (ye) away! teanaimís orainn (= tarainn ?) let us come away.
7.   “Perhaps it never was better for me.” B’ ḟéidir nárḃ’ ḟearra ḋam rud a ḋeunfainn has the same meaning. Fearra={{fearr in Munster before ḋam, ḋuit, &c. So seana-ḃean, ana-ċuid, for sean- ḃean, an-ċuid.
8.   “It was a good beauty at you,” it well became you; in English idiom, “you were equal to the occasion.”
9.   Anois beag just now. “Dé Luain seo ġaḃ ṫarainn” last Monday. An é an Luan beag so? Is it this very last Monday.
10.   Ambasa, an interjection, perhaps for am ḃaisteaḋ, by my baptism.

In dar fiaḋ we have a survival of the old word Fiaḋa, gen. -ḋat = God.