ROISIN DUBH
A Roisin, na biodh bron ort fe 'r eirigh dhuit,
Ta na braithre ag teacht thar saile is iad ag triall ar muir,
Tiocfaidh do phardun on bPapa is on Roimh anoir,
Is ni sparalfar fion Spainneach ar mo Roisin Dubh.

Beidh an Eirne ina tuilte treana is reabfar cnoic
Beidh an fharraige ina tonnta dearga is doirtfear fuil,
Beidh gach gleann sleibhe ar fud Eireann is mointe ar crith
La eigin sula n-eaga mo Roisin Dubh.

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LITTLE DARK ROSE
Roisin, don't feel sorry for what has befallen you;
The brothers are coming over and journeying apon the sea;
Your pardon is coming from the Pope and from Rome in the east,
So spare plenty of Spanish wine for my Little Dark Rose.

The River Eirne shall be mightily flooded, and the hills blasted asunder;
The sea shall be all red waves, and pouring blood;
Every mountain-valley and bogland throughout all  Ireland shall quake,
Someday, upon the death of my Little Dark Rose.

Transcribed and translated my Amy.