Mna Na h'Eireann

	Ta bean in Eirinn a phronnfadh sead damh is mo shaith le n-ol
	Is ta bean in Eireann is ba bhinne leithe mo rafla ceoil
	No seinm thead; ata bean in Eirinn is niorbh fhearr lei beo
	Mise ag leimnigh no leagtha i gcre is mo tharr faoi fhod

	Ta bean in Eirinn a bheadh ag ead liom mur bhfaighfinn ach pog
	O/ bhean ar aonach, nach ait an sceala, is mo dhaimh fein leo;
	Ta bean ab fhearr liom no cath is cead dhiobh nach bhfagham go deo
	Is ta cailin speiriuil ag fear gan Bhearla, dubhghranna croin.

	Ta bean a dearfadh da siulann leithe go bhfaighinn an t-or,
	Is ta bean 'na leine is is fearr a mein no na tainte bo
	Le bean a bhuairfeadh Baile an Mhaoir is clar Thir Eoghain,
	Is ni fhaicim leigheas ar mo ghalar fein ach scaird a dh'ol.

* Cover translation *

	The Women of Ireland

	There's a woman in Ireland who'd
	Give me a gem and my fill to drink,
	There's a woman in Ireland to whom
	My singing is sweeter than the music of strings
	There's a woman in Ireland who
	Would much prefer me leaping
	Than laid in the clay and my belly under the sod

	There's a woman in Ireland who'd envy me
	If I got naught but a kiss
	From a woman at a fair, isn't it strange,
	And the love I have for them
	There's a woman I'd prefer to a battalion,
	And a hundred of them whom I will never get
	And an ugly, swarthy man with
	No English has a beautiful girl

	There's a woman who would say
	That if I walked with her I'd get the gold
	And there's the woman of the shirt
	Whose mien is better than herds of cows
	With a woman who would deafen baile
	An mhaoir and the plain of tyrone
	And I see no cure for my disease
	But to give up the drink

* Alternate translation *

	The Women of Ireland

	There's a woman in Eirinn who'd give me shelter and my fill of ale;
	There's a woman in Ireland who'd prefer my strains to strings being played;
	There's a woman in Eirinn and nothing would please her more
	Than to see me burning or in a grave lying cold.

	There's a woman in Eirinn who'd be mad with envy if I was kissed
	By another on fair-day, they have strange ways, but I love them all;
	There are women I'll always adore, battalions of women and more
	And there's this sensuous beauty and she shackled to an ugly boar.

	There's a woman who promised if I'd wander with her I'd find some gold
	A woman in night dress with a loveliness worth more than the woman
	Who vexed Ballymoyer and the plain of Tyrone;
	And the only cure for my pain I'm sure is the ale-house down the road.


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Copyright Kate Bush Music Ltd.