Ceól, póit, Agus Kiteás, K's zártha suáin,

'Y zách órd 'n A seóltá teácht ʼn « dháil zách uáir,

Léizim dho-sán feásdá, is leór damh sin do theásdas,

Ach é Feidhlim óg An feár A tá mé lugdhadh.

Of blameless joy the centre,

Thy home thro' each night hath been, There might the wanderer enter,

And there the blind bard was seen:

There wit and sport came blended,

In careless song or merry tale; But let my praise be ended

Who loves not my lov'd O'Neill.

Limh leis Kn 3-Céis tá An siolla̸ire sásta,
Tubóid óg Pékton is sé tá mé rádh,

Is uasal 's is sa̸óítheámháil,

Is gruKgách 's is gnáóídheamháil,

'Y ní léizfeadh sé a mhasladh Air cáirde.

Zo m-budh buín é 'gus sáoghlach ʼn A shláinte,

O fuúir se bukdh Air A náinháid,

'G sciúradh, 'g á ngreadadh,

'3m-bualadh, 'g á lascadh,

Ma'r cloidheamh no bátá 'n á lámháibh.

BrKmKich 'g K z-cíoradh, do ló Kgus d’óídhche,

A's bháinfeadh As phoie dhíomásách léimneách, Ha céuda sõrd fíona

dá n-ólfadh na sa̸óíthe,

'Yé Tubóid óg Pékton do dhíolfAdh.

PLANXTY PEYTON.'

BY THOMAS FURLONG.

Let our Peyton's health go round, my boys,
For him be our bumpers crown'd, my boys,

Who has horsewhip and sword,

Or a cellar well stor❜d,

When the foe or the friend can be found, my boys:

For Toby's the soul of sport, my boys,

His home is our gayest resort, by boys,
Where the toasts fly round,

And all care is drown'd,

In brimmers of sparkling port, my boys.

Then joy to Keash-Corran's lord, my boys,

Still sharp and bright be his sword, my boys;
And thro' life as he goes,

May each hour that flows,

New feelings of pleasure afford, my boys:
On his steed may he swiftly steer, my boys,
When the upstart Saxon is near, my boys;
And often and long,

Amidst jest and song,

May we gather to taste of his cheer, my boys,

Madaм crofton.

Cearbhallán ró chán.

Is miánn liom tráchtádh Kir óig-mhnáóí,

Agus dar liom féin gur chóir sin,

Madam Crofton shúzách, gheanamhuil,

bean le'r bh'ionmhuin ceól.

'Y í do líonadh An drám dámh

Zach oidhce, zach uáir K's zách Am ceárt,

leanbh deas ná g-cam-dhla̸oídh

Is uikisle 'gus is ceánnsa̸ cáil.

Már tá, Betídhe shéimh ná g-cráébh-fholt n-dKithte,

Is geal A píob 's A bra̸zha̸id dhil,

Is deks « déud, séimh AleKck, 's é déárfáidh siól Eabha, Gur binn, beácht, grínn, cea̸rt chánáidh sí zách ceól.