The Arranmore Boat Song
tr. by Alfred P. Graves
|With swelling sail, away, away!|
Our bark goes bounding o'er the bay!
Farewell, farewell, old Arranmore!
She courtseys, courtseys to the shore.
Farewell, fond wives and children dear!
From ev'ry ill heav'n keep you clear;
Till through the surge we stagger back,
As full of fish as we can pack
2. For when we've sowed and gardened here,
|3. There, there the reeling ridge we plough,|
Our coulter keen the cutter's prow;
While fresh and fresh from out the trawl
The fish by hundreds in we haul.
4. Thou glorious sun, gleam on above
5. Until, one glitt'ring realm of grain,