Muireann Nic Amhlaoibh & Caoimhín Ó Fearghaíl - Bó na Leath Adhairce | Geantraí na Nollag 2012 | TG4

The Abbey Tavern, Howth, Co. Dublin : Muireann Nic Amhlaoibh sings the song 'Bó na Leath Adhairce' with accompaniment from Caoimhín Ó Fearghaíl (Guitar). Lyrics below. This clip comes from the 2012 Christmas episode of the TG4 series Geantraí.

Seo hí Muireann Nic Amhlaoibh ag canadh an amhráin 'Bó Na Leathadhairce' ar an gclár Geantraí sa bhliain 2012, le Caoimhín Ó Fearghaíl á tionlacan ar an ngiotár.

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Bó na Leathadhairce / Bó na Leath Adhairce [The One-Horned Cow]

Thíos cois na toinne sea a beathaíodh mo chaora,
Ó, ag Diarmaid Ó Duilleáin ó Bharra na hÍne,
Mac dearthár athar dom a chuir le faill í,
Easpa tobac a bhí ar an gcladhaire.

Curfá (tar éis gach bhéarsa):
Bó, bó, bó na leathadhairce,
Bó, bó, is í an tseanchaora adharcach,
Bó, bó, bó na leathadhairce,
Bó dhroimeann dearg is ní fheadar cá bhfaighinn í.

B’fhearr liom ná scilling go bhfeicfinn mo chaora,
Teacht chun an doras ar maidin nó istoíche,
Thálfadh sí bainne dhom, bheathódh sí uan dom,
Chuirfeadh sí jeaicéidín deas ar mo ghualainn.

Chonacsa beirithe í, chonac á roinnt í,
Chuireas-sa dúil inti, is blaise ní bhfaighinn di,
Ó, nár dheas í! Ó, nár mheidhreach!
Ó, nár dheas í an tseanchaora adharcach.

Dá mbeinnse in rachmas, i ngradam is in oidhreacht,
Thabharfainnse guinea ar chúpla slice di,
Ó, nár dheas í! Ó, nár mheidhreach!
Ó, nár dheas í an tseanchaora adharcach.

English Translation:

'Twas down by the waves that my sheep was reared,
by Diarmuid O Dillain from Barra na hAoine.
A son of my father’s brother put her over a cliff
for a lack of tobacco, the coward.

Chorus
The cow, the cow, the one-horned cow,
the cow, the cow, ’tis the old horned sheep.
The cow, the cow, the one-horned cow,
the red white-backed cow, I wonder where I’d find her.

Even more than I want a shilling, I’d like to see my sheep
coming to my door in the morning or at night.
She would give me milk, she would rear me a lamb.
She would put a nice wee jacket on my shoulder

I saw her cooked, I saw her shared.
I wanted some but not a bit would I get.
Oh wasn’t she nice, oh wasn’t she lively?
Oh wasn’t she nice, the old horned sheep?

If I had wealth in respect and inheritance,
I would give a guinea for a few slices.
Oh wasn’t she nice, oh wasn’t she lively?
Oh wasn’t she nice, the old horned sheep?