Teksty: The Corrs. Home. Buachhaill On Eirne.

Buachaill on Eirne me is bhreagfainn fein cailin deas og.
Ni iarrfainn bo spre lei, ta me fein saibhir go leor
Is liom Corcaigh da mheid e, dha thaobh an ghleanna, is Tir Eoghain,
Is mura n-athra' me beasai, is me an t-oidhre ar chontae Mhuigheo.

Buachailleacht bo, mo leo, nar chleacht mise riamh
ach ag imirt is ag ol le hogmhna deasa fa shliabh.
Ma chaill me mo stor ni moide gur chaill me mo chiall
Is ni mo liom do phog na an bhrog ata ar caitheamh le bliain.

Rachaidh me amarach a dheanamh leanna fan choill,
gan coite gan bad gan grainin brach' ar bith liom,
ach duilliuir na gcraobh mar eide leaba os mo cheann
is oro, a sheacht m'anam deag thu, is tu ag feachaint orm anall.

[Translation:]

I am a boy from Ireland and could charm a nice young girl,

I would not ask for her wealth as I'm rich enough myself,
I own a good part of Cork, two sides of the glen in Tyrone
And if I don't change my ways I'll be the heir for County Mayo.

I will go tomorrow to make ale in the wood
Without a cot, without a boat, without a pinch of gruel with me
But leaves of the branches as bedclothes over my head
And think well done for you as you watch me from over there

A cowherd, my pet, I've never been accustomed to be
Instead of playing and drinking with the nice young women on the mountain side
If I lost my riches I probably didn't lose my senses
And your kiss is no more to me now than a shoe worn fo a year