Trathnóna Dé Sathairn ag dul faoi don ghréin
A chonaic mé lánún i ngarraí leo féin
Bhí an bhean ‘s í go caisideach ag caint ar an tae
‘S níor mhaith leis an bhfear í a bheith ag trácht air.
She was talking about tea, and he wanted to put the subject onto tobacco.
‘Muise, bíonn tusa i gcónaí ag cur síos ar an tae
Is an lá a mbíonn sé agat ní feictear agat é
Imigh leat is faigh tobac dom ar mhaithe leat féin
Nó roinnfidh mé leat feac na láí.’
‘Ó, cén slí atá agamsa? cá bhfaighinn-se dhuit é?
Ach ag ceangail dá chirc a raibh ubh aice réir
Rud a thóig tú faoi Nollaig, níor íoc tú fós é
‘S tá an méid sin sathach gann ag na páistí.’
Now, she says, ‘what we borrowed at Christmas, we never paid for yet….What we have is scarce enough for the kids.’ And he says… ‘If I went to Galway or to Headford…Kinvara or Tralee…I’d be hired in a house a week or a month,…I’d earn the price of a drawer and a bawneen.1’ That was the old style that the men wore long ago, the bawneen, and the drawer they called the white trouser, and the bawneen is the, is the, what they wear as gimmicks now you see, you know what I mean, people wear as gimmicks. Bawneen, made of white wool, white tweed…it’s as warm as an overcoat. That’s what he said to her.
Dhá dteinnse go Gaillimh nó soir go hÁth Cinn
Anonn go Cinn Mhara nó síos go Trá Lí
Casfaí i dteach mé seachtain nó mí
Agus saorthóinn luach drár agus báinín.
And she said,… ‘You went before, and you came back…. You didn’t have a bloody halfpenny!… You lay on your bed, snoring and sleeping all day!…. That’s all you did.’
Muise, d’imigh tú cheana is tháinig tú arís
Ní fhaca muid agat coróin, scillinn ná pingin
Luigh tú ar do leaba is bhí d’easnachaí tinn
Bhí an slaghdán go domhain i do chnámha.
Muise, éist do bhéal feasta, a amaid de shraoill
‘Well, you, you, you…sraoill. You stupid woman,’ he said, ‘if you don’t shut up I’ll break your back with the spade.’
Muise, éist do bhéal feasta, a amaid de shraoill
Nó buailfidh mé buille ort a bhrisfeas do dhroim
‘Fighting and arguing is nagging you for all your life,’ he said, ‘and your mother had the same habit.’
Ag troid is ag achrann a chaith tú do shaol
‘S bhí an faisean céanna ag do mháithrín!
And the end of it was, they went to a lawyer to settle the problem. He couldn’t settle the problem for them, which wanted the tea and the other wanted tobacco.
Chuadar go Gaillimh ag iarraidh fear dlí
Ag súil le go n-iarrfadh sé an críochnú (?) dhaoibh;
Ní dearnadh don bheirt ach magadh is bé-hé
Ach táim cinnte gur cailleadh na páistí.
The judge threw them out, he laughed at them. But the end of the story was, that he thought the kids died. A terrible ending to a song. That was Colm a’ Bhailís2 who wrote that. It’s the same air as ‘The Wife of the Bold Tenant Farmer.’
Translation
On a Saturday evening, as the sun was going down, I saw a couple in their garden
The woman was complaining about the tea
And the man didn’t want to hear it.
‘Oh, you’re always going on about the tea – and the day you have it you never produce any.
Go out and get me some tobacco, if you know what’s good for you,
Or I’ll cut you in half with the spade!’
‘Oh, how’s that then? Where will I get it for you?
We’ve only the two hens that laid an egg last night!
What you borrowed at Christmas you haven’t paid for yet,
And things are meagre enough for the children!’
‘If I went to Galway or Headford
Across to Kinvara or down to Tralee
I’d be hired for a week or a month
And I’d earn the price of trousers and a bawneen!’
‘You went already, and you came back again,
And we never saw a crown, shilling, or penny from you!
You lay in bed moaning about sore ribs,
And how the cold was deep in your bones!’
‘Oh, shut up, you slovenly fool,
Or I’ll give you a beating that will break your back!
You’ve spent your whole life fighting and arguing
And your mother was just the same.’
They went off to Galway looking for a lawyer
Hoping he could settle things between them.
But they were only laughed out of court
And I’m certain that the children died.