(Instrumental)
Ro loiscit na lámasa,
ro coiscit na gnímasa,
do-chúaid tuile, táinic tráig,
coro báid na brígasa.

A-tlochor don Dúilemain,
fúar sochor co sáirmedair,
fata mo lá i m-bethaid trúaig,
ro bá úair co h-áillemail.

Ropsam áille airechta,
fúar mná táide tabarta,
ní tláith a-tú ic tríall don bith,
ro scáich mo rith rabarta.


In brúarán becc brisisiu
don trúagán trúag troiscthisea,
mír ar cloich de, mír ar cnáim,
mír ar in láim loiscthisea.


These hands have been withered,
these deeds have been prevented,
flood has gone, ebb has come
and has destroyed these powers.

I thank the Creator that I
have had profit with great joy,
long is my day in wretched life,
once I was beautiful.

I was the fairest in an assembly,
I have enjoyed wanton women who would give,
not weakly am I journeying from the world,
my springtide course has ended.

The little heap of fragments
you break for this wretched fasting wretch,
a morsel of it is on a stone, a morsel on a bone,
a morsel on this withered hand.