Ag gol go faíoch ar uair mharbh na hoíche,
Ná caoin
An bhó dhubh
Atá ceangailte den phionna
Sa bhóitheach dorcha
Is cinnte go dtálfaidh
Lán a hútha de bhainne
Nuair a bhreacfaidh an lá
Uair mharbh na hoíche
Ní go deo ná choíche í
Ná caoin
A pháistín fionn
Milk
Little childCrying aloud in the dead of night,
Do not cry
The black cow
Tied to the peg
In the dark shed
Will surely yield
Udders-ful of milk
When the dawn breaks
The dead of night
Is not for ever and ever
Do not cry
Little child