Tam � Shanter
Ar an l� seo in Ean�ir, ag cuimhneadh ar Burns,
`S an d�cheall a scr�omh s� (de r�ir mo thuairimse),
Seo blas "Tam O Shanter", an tus ar aon chao�;
N� b�c le "Ode to a Haggis" ar bith.
Le cuidi� le daoine gan B�arla na hAlbain,
Caid� at� deanta ach "wee owersettin"?
Nach bhfuil iontach maith ach at� maith go leor
As duine � scriomh i ndiaidh breis is dh� bheoir
When chapman billies leave the street
And drouthy neibors neibors meet
As market days are wearing late
An' folk begin to tak the gate;
While we sit bouzin' at the nappy
An gettin' fou an unco happy,
We think na on the long Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Where sits our sullen, sulky dame
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.
Nuair a th�ann na mangair� l�cha abhaile,
'S buaileann fir thirime spallta le ch�ile,
'S l� an aonaigh ag �ir� n�os d�ana�,
'S am dul abhaile ag druidim ar dhaoine,
T� muidne l�n-chaite ar leann l�idir blasta
Ag �ir� leathbh�ite is uaf�sach s�sta,
Gan machnamh ar bith ar an achar r�-fhada,
An abar, an cl�bar, an guta, an pluda,
A lu�onn go f�ill idir seo is an teach
An �it ina fhanann �r m�istre�s go br�ch
Le p�ic ar a mala� mar p�ic ar an aimsir
Ag coth� a fraoich le choinne�il � l�idir.