Bean (Moll) Dubh a’ Ghleanna è un canto in gaelico irlandese popolare in tutta l’Irlanda come love song, John O’Daly che la pubblicò nel suo “The poets and poetry of Munster” (Dublino, 1849), la attribuì allo spadaccino-poeta Éamonn an Chnoic (‘Ned of the Hills’) (vedi): una canzone d’amore dedicata a Molly la brunetta della valle.


La melodia è una dolce e malinconica slow air: Edward Bunting included a version of the melody in A general collection of the ancient Irish music (London, 1796), 22. Thomas Moore based his song ‘Go Where Glory Waits Thee’ on Bunting’s ‘Bean Dubh an Ghleanna’ or ‘The Maid of the Valley’. George Petrie found fault with Bunting’s setting and felt compelled to print his own setting of the air which can be examined in David Cooper, The Petrie collection of the ancient music of Ireland (Cork, 2002), 239-41 (tratto da qui)

ASCOLTA Ernst Stolz

ASOLTA Aly Bain, Jay Ungar & Cathal McConnel da the Trans-Atlantic sessions.

ASCOLTA Altan in The Red Crow, 1990

Tá ba agam ar shliabh s níl duine gam na ndiadh
Ach mé do mo bhuaidhreadh leofa
Bí odh idir mise is Dia más orthu tá mo thriall
Is bhain siad mo chiall go mór uaim
‘Sí Moll Dubh (1) a’ Ghleanna í
‘Sí Moll Dubh an Earraigh í
‘Sí Moll Dubh is deirge ná’n rósa
‘S dá bhfaighinnse féin mo roghainn
De mhná óga deasa ‘n domhain
‘Sí Moll Dubh a’ Ghleanna ab fhearr liom
Mise bheith gan mhaoi
Feasta choíche ní bhim
Is Moll dubh bheith i dtús a h-óige
Och, is fann guth an éin
A labhras leis féin
Ar thulaigh nó ar thaobh na mónadh
Is ag Moll dubh a’ ghleanna
Tá mo chroí-se i dtaiscí
‘S í nach bhfuair guth na náire
Is go céillí, múinte, cneasta
A dúirt sí liom ar maidin
“Ó imigh uaim ‘s nach pill go brách orm”
Níl’n óganach geanúil
Ó Bhaile Átha Cliath go Gaillimh
Is timpeall go h-Umhaill Uí Mháinnle
Nach bhfuil a dtriall uilig ‘na ghleanna
Ar eacraidh slime sleamhainne
I ndúil leis an bhean dubh a b ‘áille

I hear cattle on the hill with no one there to tend them
And for them I am deeply worried
Between myself and God, to them I take the trail/For they have taken my senses from me
She’s Moll Dubh of the valley
She’s Moll Dubh of spring
She’s Moll Dubh, more ruddy than the red rose
And if I had to choose
From the young maids of the world
Moll Dubh a’ Ghleanna would be my fancy
Me without a wife
I won’t be all my life
And Moll Dubh in youth just blooming
Lifeless the song of the bird
That sings alone
On a mound by the edge of the moorland
The Dark Molly of the glen
Has my heart in her keeping
She never had reproach or shame
So mannerly and honestly
She said to me this morning
“Depart from me and do not come again”
There’s not a handsome youth
From Dublin down to Galway
And around by ‘Umhail Uí Mháinnle’
That’s not heading for the glen
On steeds so sleek and slim
Hoping to win the dark maid’s affection
Tradotto da Cattia Salto
Sento le mucche sulla collina e nessuno che le accudisce, e per quelle sono tanto preoccupato
dentro di me e Dio prendo il sentiero nella loro direzione
perchè ho perso il senno per loro
E’ Molly la brunetta della valle
Molly la brunetta della primavera
Molly Dubh più rubiconda di una rosa rossa
e se dovessi scegliere
tra le giovani fanciulle del paese
Molly Dudh della valle sarà la mia fidanzata
Io senza moglie
per tutta la vita non voglio stare
e Molly Dubh nella giovinezza sta sbocciando,
senza vita (è) il canto dell’uccello
che canta solitario
su un tumulo al confine della brughiera
Molly la brunetta della valle
è la custode del mio cuore
non mi ha mai rimproverato  o disonorato, così di buone maniere e onesta, ma disse a me questa mattina
“Vattene da me e non ritornare di nuovo”
Non c’è un bel ragazzo
da Dublino a Galway
e per ‘Umhail Uí Mháinnle’
che non stia andando nella valle
su destrieri così agili e slanciati
nella speranza di ottenere l’affetto della fanciulla mora

ASCOLTA Emer Kenny in Parting Glass 2004

(tratto (da qui)
Ta bo agam ar shliabh,
‘s is fada me na diadh
o’ chaill me mo chiall
le nochair
a seoladh soir is siar
Ins gach ait da dteann an ghrian
No go bhfilleann si ar ais trathnona
Si Moll Dubh a Ghleann i
‘S si Moll Dubh an earraigh i
Si Moll Dubh is deirge
Na na rosa
‘S da bhfaighinnse fein mo rogha
De mhna oga deas an domhain
Si Moll Dubh a Ghleann
Ab fhearr liom
Nuair a braithnionn fein anon
Ins an ait a mbionn mo run
Sileann o mo shuil
Sruth deora
‘S a Ri ghil na nDul
Dean fuascailt ar mo chuis
Mar si bean dubh an nGleann
A bhreoigh me

Traduzione inglese
I have a cow on the hillside,
and I’m a long while following her,
until I’ve lost my senses
with a spouse;
driving her east and west,
wherever the sun goes,
until she returns in the evening.
She is dark Moll of the glen,
she is dark Moll of the steed
Dark woman more red
than roses
Oh if I could but choose just one precious bloom
My dark Moll of the glen,
I’d choose you
When I look across
to the place where my love lives,
my eyes fill
with tears;
Bright King of the Elements,
resolve my predicament:
the dark woman of the glen
has destroyed me.
Tradotto da Cattia Salto
Ho una mucca sulla collina
e da molto tempo l’accudisco
fino a quando ho perso la ragione
per una sposa;
e la guidavo a est e a ovest
fino al calar del sole
quando ritornava a sera
E’ Molly la brunetta della valle
Molly la brunetta del destriero
la donna mora più rubiconda di una rosa
e se dovessi scegliere
solo un prezioso bocciolo
Molly mia brunetta della valle, sceglierei te
Quando guardo
verso il luogo dove vive il mio amore
i miei occhi si riempiono
di lacrime
Re luminoso degli Elementi
la brunetta della valle
mi ha distrutto (1)

* per la fonetica qui
1) nel Donegal Moll non è una bella ragazza dai capelli neri ma il whiskey illegale

ASCOLTA Dolores Keane in Sail Óg Rua , 1983



fountainUn’altra canzone ambientata sempre sulle rive del Lago Erne si intitola “Edmund (o Edward) by Lough Erne’s shore” per distinguerla dall’altra intitolata semplicemente “Lough Erne Shore” (vedi)

Su Mudcat John Mulden scrive (qui) “Edmund on Lough Melvin’s Shore – which is the original way of the song Edward on Lough Erne’s Shore was written by Peter Magennis (The Bard of Derrygonnelly, 1817-1905) and published by him in “Poems by Peter Magennis” (Enniskillen (Geo B White) 1888 but with a preface dated 1887). The tune suggested in the book is “Youghal Harbour” – aka Boolavogue
E in aggiunta sull’ottimo Mustrad leggiamo”Since no information is provided about the origins and possible date of the song it is impossible to draw this conclusion as the reasons for banishment could vary considerably.  Cyril does observe that ‘almost identical verses appear in Poems of Peter Magennis under the title of Song.  Air – “Youghal Harbour”’, though suggests that it cannot be certain whether the poet (who died in 1910) actually wrote the song or collected the lyrics from somebody else.  Conversely, Dermot McLaughlin’s sleeve notes for the Dog Big Dog Little album (Claddagh CC51CD) boldly assert that the song, performed there by Gabriel McArdle, was definitely the work of Magennis.  Since the song utilizes some typically Victorian florid imagery, it is quite possible that McLaughlin is correct.” (tratto da qui)

ASCOLTA Rita Gallagher in The May Morning Dew 2010 (in versione integrale su Spotify qui) Anche The Dervish hanno ripreso questa versione nel loro Live in Panama (2002)

ASCOLTA Mary Dillon in North 2013. Il testo è diverso in buona parte da quello riportato, ma per il momento non ho trovato la versione. La melodia richiama per l’appunto quella di “Youghal Harbour

Pregevole anche l’arrangiamento strumentale di John Wynne & John McEvoy in Pride of the West (2007) (da ascoltare su Spotify qui melodia seguita da The Tooth Fairy e Fraher’s) (in mancanza di registrazioni di Cathal McConnell..)
Oh the Sun was setting behind the mountain
The dew was falling behind the lea
As I was seated beside a fountain
A feathered songster sang on each tree.
With love and blisses his notes were blending
Made me reminded of days of yore
When in a bower I plucked a flower
And I dreamt of Edmund on Lough Erne’s shore(1)

A crop of sorrow my heart is reaping
My roses fade and my hopes decay
Since in the night time when all are sleeping
Awake I’m weeping for the break of day
Delight has fled me and woe has wed me
Why did you leave me my love a stór?
For love compelled him and banished Edmund(2)
Would not forsake me on Lough Erne’s shore

The cuckoo’s notes in the air resounding
Appeal to feelings and please the ear
And every note with bliss abounding
Are in the valley if he were near
Each step I take by the winding river
Where we have wandered in days of yore
Reminds me of Edmund, my banished lover
And makes me lonely on Lough Erne’s shore

Oh could I move like a moon in motion
I’d send a sigh o’er the distant deep
Or could I fly like a bird o’er the ocean
By my Edmund’s side I would ever keep
I’d fondly sooth him, with songs amuse him
I’d gently sooth him and he’d sigh no more
And seven long years aye would soon pass over(2)
And we’d both live happy on Lough Erne’s shore

1) Il Lough Erne è un complesso di due laghi situati nelle Midlands d’Irlanda: Lower e Upper. “Senza alcuna fretta di raggiungere il mare, il fiume Erne serpeggia da una parte all’altra dell’acquosa e boscosa contea Fermanagh. Scorre fino a formare un lago composto di due bacini, Lower e Upper Lough Erne, nel cui centro si trova l’isoletta su cui sorge il capoluogo di contea, Enniskillen. Paradiso per uccelli, fiori e piante selvatiche e pescatori, Lough Erne è un corso d’acqua meraviglioso, ideale per crociere e gite in barca. “(tratto da qui)
2) presumibilmente Edmund era un bandito che è stato condannato a sette anni di deportazione in una delle colonie penali inglesi oltre oceano.

Il sole tramontava dietro alla montagna e la rugiada si posava sul viale mentre ero seduta accanto ad una fonte e un uccello cantava sul ramo. La sua melodia era piena di dolcezza e beatitudine e mi ha richiamato alla mente i giorni del passato quando in un pergolato raccolsi un fiore e sognai di Emund delle rive del Lago Erne. Una messe di dolore il mio cuore sta raccogliendo, le mie rose appassiscono e le mie speranze svaniscono così di notte mentre tutti dormono io sveglia piango per la fine del giorno, le gioie sono fuggite e il dolore è mio sposo, perchè mi hai abbandonato, amore, cuore mio? Amore lo spinse e Edmund fu bandito perchè mai mi avrebbe abbandonato sulle rive del Lago Erne. La melodia del cuculo risuona nell’aria, gradevole da sentire e allettante per i sentimenti e tutte le note di gioia traboccante sono nella valle come se fosse vicino; ogni passo che faccio per il fiume tortuoso dove abbiamo passeggiato nei giorni del passato, mi ricorda Edmund, il mio amore bandito e mi rende sola sulle rive del Lago Erne. Oh potessi muovermi come il cammino della luna manderei un sospiro sull’oceano lontano oppure potessi volare come un uccello sopra l’oceano, resterei sempre accanto al mio Edmund. Lo consolerei con amore e lo divertirei con le canzoni, lo consolerei dolcemente e lui non sospirerebbe più, e sette lunghi anni potrebbero trascorrere in fretta e poi potremo vivere felici insieme sulle rive del Lago Erne.


(di Seán Corcoran tratto da qui)

The area covered by this collection stretches roughly from Enniskillen to Beleek in West Co Fermanagh, a cluster of mountain-ridges, bounded in the North by Lower Lough Erne and in the South by Loughs Melvin and Macnean.  Nineteenth-century travellers dubbed the Lough Erne area the ‘Killarney of the North’, and its natural beauty is indeed impressive, with its huge lake, studded with islands, its craggy hills with sudden cliffs, waterfalls and underground rivers erupting from rock-faces, its many tiny loughs nestling in the mountain glens.  It’s a beauty apparent not only to the eye of the stranger, for every lough, river and rock has been celebrated by some local song-maker.  In the ’30s and ’40s, when ‘céilí bands’ were in vogue, the local bands were named, not after the area, as was usual, but after two geographical features, the hill of Knockmore and the river Sillees.  The loughs teem with fish and wildfowl and many local inhabitants, of both sexes, are highly skilled with rod and gun, another aspect of local life which the song-makers did not overlook.
Lough Erne provided a major thoroughfare for all kinds of incursions since Neolithic times, when the system of hill-farming, based on sheep and cattle, was much the same as today, as recent excavations have shown.  In the early Christian period it was a hive of activity, with large monastic settlements on the islands and the huts of zealots and hermits high up on the mountain slopes.  It was always an area of conflict because of its strategic position and its accessible waterways.  The Vikings came to pillage the monasteries and later it was the cockpit of the struggle between the last bastion of the old Gaelic order and the expansion of the Tudors, hungry for land and capital.
In the plantations of the seventeenth-century the area was given to Scots settlers but this involved no great shift in population since the hill-farms were left in the hands of the original Irish tenants who simply had a change of landlord.  So, in terms of dialect and traditional culture, there is little evidence of any significant Scottish influence.  Cultural division operated along social rather than religious lines.  The minority of small-farmers who were Protestant integrated into the cooperative lifestyle of the hill-farmers.  The Gaelic language, however, retreated, so that the census of 1911 showed that the heaviest concentration of Gaelic speakers was along the border with Co Leitrim, between Garrison and Holywell (10%) with a figure of 1% over the rest of the area.

The new masters did not neglect the old music.  On the contrary, some of them played an active part in its promotion and patronised pipers, fiddlers and harpers…

Despite the immense social changes in Ireland since the turn of the century, this part of Fermanagh has always been renowned for its fiddlers, flute-players, dancers and singers.  One of the great names of the past is that of William Carroll, the flute-player, whose sound was so powerful it is said that he could ‘blow the delft off a dresser.’  Carroll passed his tunes and skills on to another extraordinary flute-player, Eddie Duffy of Derrygonnelly, who died in 1986 at the age of 93, and who was still playing until shortly before his death.  Eddie in turn, passed his store of tunes on to Mick Hoy, the fiddler from Blaney, on the shores of Lough Erne, whose fame has now spread far beyond the hills and loughs of Fermanagh…
Many of the old mountain kayley houses are now silent as families are moved into the villages.  Yet this has not diminished the vitality of traditional song and music.  Increased social contact and activity has given a new lease of life to the old culture, with many young people becoming involved, and traditions like mumming and old-style social dancing reinvigorated.  The notion that ‘modernisation’ inevitably smothers oral culture is strongly contradicted by the singing, dancing, kayleying people of the Barony of Magheraboy.



Il nome gaelico Srath Bhlàthain si traduce  come “la valle del Blane” e la ballata ‘The Braes of Strathblane’ , tramandata sostanzialmente dalla tradizione orale e cantata anche in gaelico scozzese, potrebbe essersi originata nello Stirlingshire; è tuttavia diffusa anche nelle isole Ebridi con il titolo di Stra’ Ban Aodann Srath Bhain  (vedi prima parte); equivalente in Irlanda a “Banks of Strathdon”.


lavandaiaLa storia è un po’ anomala rispetto al filone delle “courting songs”: una giovane lavandaia respinge  la proposta di matrimonio del suo spasimante (a quanto pare sfaccendato e non gradito ai genitori), il ragazzo si sente offeso dalle parole con cui lei ha spiegato il suo rifiuto; troppo tardi la fanciulla riconsidera l’offerta matrimoniale per acconsentire, lui ormai non la vuole più!

Ossian in “St. Kilda Wedding” 1987. Nelle note di copertina gli Ossian scrivono: The words here were first published in Mavers Collection (1866) and are recorded as those heard in Kintyre. The song has an unusually unhappy ending for this ‘boy meets girl in the month of May’ type“.

As I was a-walking
one morning in May
Down by yon green meadows
I careless did stray;
I spied a young lass,
she was standing alane
A-bleaching her claes
on the braes o’ Strathblane (1).
I steppèd up tae her
as I seemed tae pass:
“Ye’re bleaching yer claes here,
my bonny young lass;
It’s twelve months and mair
since I’ve had in my mind
And its a’ tae be married
if you are inclined.”
“Tae marry, tae marry,
I’m sure I’m too young
And all ye young lads
hae a flattering tongue;
My faither and mother
displeasèd would be
Gin I were tae wed
wi’ a rover (2) like thee.”
“But lassie, oh lassie,
how can ye say so
For ye ken all the pain
which I undergo;
Consent, my dear lassie,
tae be a’ my ain
And happy we’ll live here
on the braes o’ Strathblane.”
But, “Tempt me nae longer –
this lassie did say-
For ye’ll dae yersel’ better
to gang on your way;
Far better for me
tae bide here alane
Than wi’ you spend my days here
on the braes o’ Strathblane”.
So I turnèd around then
wi’ a tear in my ee
Saying, “I wish ye a guid man, whaure’er he may be;
I wish ye a guid man
as we’re here alane
And I’ll court wi’ another
on the braes o’ Strathblane.”
“But wait”, cried this lassie,
“for ye’ve fair won my hairt;
Here is my hand,
and we never shall part.
We never shall part
till the day that we dee
And may a’ good attend us
whaure’er we may be.”
“But noo ye’ve consented,
oh it’s fair out o’ time;
Ilka word that you’ve spoken,
I’ve changèd my mind
For the clouds they look heavy,
I’m afeared we’ll have rain.”
And we shook hands and parted
on the Braes o’ Strathblane.
Mentre me ne andavo
in un mattin di Maggio
per quei campi verdi
e distrattamente vagavo,
vidi una fanciulla
che stava da sola
a lavare (candeggiare) i suoi vestiti
sulle rive dello Strathblane.
Mi sono fermato accanto a lei
mentre stavo passando:
“Stai lavando i tuoi abiti ,
mia bella signorina?
Sono 12 mesi e più
che avrei intenzione
di sposarti,
se anche tu lo desideri!”
“Sposare, sposare?
Di certo sono troppo giovane
e tutti voi giovanotti
avete una lingua adulatrice,
mio padre e mia madre
non sarebbero contenti
se fossi sposata
ad un vagabondo come te.”
“Oh ragazza, ragazza
come fai a dire così,
lo sai bene tutta la pena
che mi fai passare,
acconsenti mia cara ragazza
di sposarmi
e vivremo felici qui
sulle rive dello Strathblane”
“Non tentarmi più a lungo –
disse la ragazza –
sarà meglio che tu vada
per la tua strada
molto meglio per me
aspettare qui da sola,
che trascorrere con te i miei giorni
qui sulle rive dello Strathblane”
Così mi sono voltato
con gli occhi pieni di lacrime
dicendo “Ti auguro un brav’uomo ovunque egli sia,
ti auguro un brav’uomo
mentre stai qui da sola,
e io corteggerò un’altra
sulle rive dello Strathblane”
“Ma aspetta – gridò la ragazza –
perchè hai vinto il mio cuore,
ecco la mia mano
e non ci separeremo più,
non ci separeremo più
fino al giorno della nostra morte
e possa la sorte favorirci
ovunque saremo”
“Ma ora che hai acconsentito
è troppo tardi,
a causa di ogni parola che hai detto
ho cambiato opinione,
che le nuvole sembrano pesanti
e temo che verrà a piovere”
E ci stringemmo la mano e separammo sulle rive dello Strathblane.

(1) Strathblane probabile riferimento al Blane Water un fiume chiamato in gaelico  Beul-abhainn  (= fiume chiacchierino) per l’abbondanza di cascatelle e cascate. Un suo affluente il Ballagan Burn è particolarmente suggestivo per le vasche d’alabastro scavate dal ruscello. Strathblane è oggi un piccolo paese-dormitorio di Glasgow – la distanza è di circa 20 km-ai confini sud-est della contea di Stirling (Scozia) , nel 1800 vi si impiantò un centro tessile per la produzione di calicot (scritto anche calicò come si pronuncia) il cencio della nonna, un tessuto in cotone economico che veniva prodotto in India e che si prestava ad essere stampato con vivaci colori (Calloco Print).
(2) il ragazzo è chiaramente uno senza un mestiere, forse un traveller


Questa versione è in pratica identica alla versione scozzese tranne per il nome della località; aggiunge piuttosto una strofa  una sorta di commento o frase conclusiva tipica nella struttura delle warning songs (e già presente nella versione in gaelico scozzese).
Così conclude: “Venite tue voi signorine e accettate questo consiglio da me: non offendete mai un giovanotto per la sua povertà, perchè nell’offendere questo giovane temo che non ne troverete altri e vivrete e morirete nubili sulle rive di Strathdon

“Hugh Shields’ Shamrock, Rose and Thistle, Belfast: Blackstaff Press, 1981 has a version of ‘The Braes of Strathblane’ taken down from Annie Sweeny of Magilligan, Co Derry (N Ireland). According to the notes, the song has also been found in America under the titles of ‘The beach of Strablane’, ‘The bleaches so green'[not as odd a name as may appear; linens were treated on a ‘bleaching green’] and even ‘The Chippewa Girl’ Shields also quotes from Robert Ford, ed Vagabond Songs and ballads of Scotland(1899)Paisley & London, 1904: ‘Doggerel’ as familiar in the Blane valley, north of Glasgow, as ‘the lines of the 23rd psalm’. Two American versions can be found in GM Laws’ Native American Balladry (1950) revised, Philadelphia 1957. He calls it ‘The Chippewa Girl’. Maud Karpeles collected ‘The bleaches so green’ in Newfoundland.” (da qui)

ASCOLTA Cathal McConnell

As I went out walking one morning in May
Down by yon green meadow I chanced for to stray
I met with a fair maid she was standing along
She was bleaching her claes on the Banks of StrathdonSo I said unto to her as I seemed to pass
“You’re bleaching your claes here my bonnie wee lass
Tis twelve months and better since I’ve had a mind
For to ask you to marry me if you’re sae inclined.”
“To marry you, to marry you O I’m far too young
And besides all you young men have a flattering tongue
My father and mother would both angry be
If I were to marry a young man like thee.”
“O hold your tongue lassie and do not say no
You can cure all the pains love that I undergo
But I’ll bid you a good man though I gang alone
So I’ll bid you good morning on the Banks of Strathdon.”
“Abide my dear laddie, you’ve fair won my heart
Here is my hand and we never shall part
We never shall part till the day we die
And may all good attend us wherever we be.”
“O it’s now you’ve consented though now out of time
The cruel words you’ve spoken have altered my mind
Dark clouds are a-gathering and rain will be on.”
So they shook hands and parted on the Banks of Strathdon.
“So come all you fair maids and a warning take by me
Never slight your young man for his poverty
For in slighting this young man I’m afraid I’ll get none
And live and die unmarried on the Banks of Strathdon.”


ASCOLTA John Reilly in “The Bonny Green Tree Songs of an Irish Traveller” 1977 e ristampato nel  2014

For the old town of Tralee(1)
one evening in June
Through the woodbine,
mound daisies
an’ meadows in bloom
I espied a wee lassie
at the end of a lane
An’ she bleaching her linen
by the braes of Strawblane
For I stepped up unto her
an’ I made my address:
“Are you bleachin’ your linen
my charnin’ wee lass,
For twelve months an’ better
since I had deep in my mind
Oh, that we would get married,
love, if you were inclined.”
“Well, to marry, to marry,
kind sir, I’m too young
An’ besides all ye young men
has a platterin’ fine tongue
Sayin; my Daddy an’ Mammy,
oh quite angry would be
That’s if I would go
marry a rover like thee.”
“You consent my wee lassie
and do not say no
Sayin’ you don’t know the pain love,
oh that I undergo
for the clouds they look weary,
I’m afraid we’ll have rain
Oh, but I’ll go my way, love,
round the braes of Strawblane.”
“Consented, consented
it is all of the time
Since the last words you have spoken
I have now changed my mind
The clouds they look weary
I’m afraid we’ll have rain
Oh but I’ll court some other
round the braes of Strawblane.”
Per la vecchia città di Tralee
una sera di Giugno
con il caprifoglio
e un mucchio di margherite
che fiorivano nei prati,
vidi una ragazzina
alla fine del viale
e lei candeggiava la sua biancheria
sulle rive dello Strawblane.
Sicchè accanto a lei mi fermai
e le feci le presentazioni
“Stai candeggiando la biancheria ,
mia affascinante fanciulla?
Sono più di 12 mesi
che ho la profonda convinzione
di chiederti in sposa,
se anche tu lo vuoi”
” Beh, per sposarmi, sposarmi
gentile signore, sono troppo giovane
e inoltre tutti voi giovanotti
avete una parlantina sciolta,
mio padre e mia madre
non sarebbero tanto contenti
se andassi in sposa
a  un vagabondo come voi.”
“Acconsenti ragazzina
e non dire no,
tu che non conosci le pene d’amore
come quelle che io patisco,
perchè le nuvole sembrano cariche
e temo che verrà a piovere,
ma allora andrò per la mia strada, amore, per le rive dello Strawblane”
“Acconsenti, acconsenti
ma è troppo tardi
poichè le ultime parole che hai detto
mi hanno fatto cambiare opinione,
le nuvole sembrano cariche
e temo che ci sarà pioggia
ma io corteggerò qualcun’altra
sulle rive dello Strawblane”

1) Tralee si trova nella contea di Jerry (Irlanda Sud-Ovest)

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