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Anonymous

Donal Og (Young Donald)

It is late last night the dog was speaking of you;
the snipe was speaking of you in her deep marsh.
It is you are the lonely bird through the woods;
and that you may be without a mate until you find me.

You promised me, and you said a lie to me,
that you would be before me where the sheep are flocked;
I gave a whistle and three hundred cries to you,
and I found nothing there but a bleating lamb.

You promised me a thing that was hard for you,
a ship of gold under a silver mast;
twelve towns with a market in all of them,
and a fine white court by the side of the sea.

You promised me a thing that is not possible,
that you would give me gloves of the skin of a fish;
that you would give me shoes of the skin of a bird;
and a suit of the dearest silk in Ireland.

When I go by myself to the Well of Loneliness,
I sit down and I go through my trouble;
when I see the world and do not see my boy,
he that has an amber shade in his hair.

It was on that Sunday I gave my love to you;
the Sunday that is last before Easter Sunday.
And myself on my knees reading the Passion;
and my two eyes giving love to you for ever.

My mother said to me not to be talking with you today,
or tomorrow, or on the Sunday;
it was a bad time she took for telling me that;
it was shutting the door after the house was robbed.

My heart is as black as the blackness of the sloe,
or as the black coal that is on the smith's forge;
or as the sole of a shoe left in white halls;
it was you that put that darkness over my life.

You have taken the east from me; you have taken the west from me;
you have taken what is before me and what is behind me;
you have taken the moon, you have taken the sun from me;
and my fear is great that you have taken God from me!

Translation by Lady Augustus Gregory from an old (possibly 8c) Irish Ballad

Alternative popular version given below (remembering that as an old popular ballad passed by word-of-mouth, there's likely to be quite a few version floating around Ireland!):-

O Donal Og when you cross the ocean
Take me with you when you are going
At fair or market you'll be well looked after
And you shall sleep with the Greek king's daughter

O lad of fairness, O lad of redness
O lad so fair my mind's in sadness
When I think of another in your name calling
The top and the bottom of my hair starts falling

My mother ordered me to shun you
Today, tomorrow and on Sunday
Too late, in vain o'er spilt milk grieving
Closing the door on a bygone thieving

O you said you would meet me, but you were lying
Beside the sheep shed as day was dying
I whistled and called you, twelve times repeating
But all that I heard was the young lambs bleating

If you come at all, come when stars are peeping
Rap the door that makes no squeaking
My mother will ask you to name your people
And I'll say you're a sigh of the night wind weeping

I got the first kiss and from no craven
I got the second atop the stairway
The third kiss came as down he (sic) laid me
But for that one night, be still a maiden

The last time I saw you was a Sunday evening
Beside the altar as I was kneeling
It was of Christ's passion that I was thinking
But my mind was on you and my own heart bleeding

For you took what's before me and what's behind me
Took east and west when you wouldn't mind me
Sun, moon and stars from me you've taken
And God as well if I'm not mistaken