This makes me wish I understood Irish Gaelic.
A Spáilpín or "wandering landless labourer" was an itinerant farm worker in Ireland from the 17th to the early 20th century.
Lyrics:
Is Spailpin aerach tréitheach mise
is bígí soláthar mná dhom,
Mar a scaipfinn an síol faoi dhó san Earrach
in éadan na dtaltaí bána,
Mar a scaipfinn an síol faoi dhó san Earrach
in éadan na dtaltaí bána,
Mo lámha ar an gcéachta a'm i ndiaidh na gcapall
agus réapfainnse cnoic le fána.
Is mo chúig céad slán leat, a dhúthai m'athar,
is leis an oileán grámhar,
Is leis an scata fear óg atá 'mo dhiaidh ag baile
a dhéanfadh cabhair orm in am an ghátair,
Tá Bleá Cliath dóite is tógfar Gaillimh,
beidh lasair a'ainn ar thinte cnámha,
Beidh fíon agus beoir ar bord ag m'athair,
sin cabhair ag an Spailpín Fánach.
Is an chéad lá in Éirinn dár liostáil mise,
ó bhí mé súgach sásta,
Is an dara lá dár liostáil mise
ó bhí mé buartha cráite,
Ach an tríú lá dár liostáil mise,
thabharfainn cúig céad punt ar fhágáil,
Ach dtá dtugainn sin is ar oiread eile
ní raibh mo phas le fáil agam.
Agus bhí mise lá breá thíos i nGaillimh
is chuaigh an abhainn le fána,
Bhi an breac is an eascainn is an beairtín slat ann
is chuile ní dá bhreátha,
Bhí na mná óga ann muinte mánla
is iad a bhí tanaí tláithdheas,
Ach dheamhan bean óg dár shuigh mise lé
i nach gcuirfinn an dubh ar a mbán di.
Agus b'fhaide liomsa lá a mbeinn i dteach gan charaid
ná dhá bhliain déag is ráithe,
Mar is buachaillín aerach meanmach mise
agus' bhréagfainn an bhruinneall mhánla,
Is dhá bhean déag a bhí ag éad is ag iomaí liom,
ag súil le tairfe mo láidhe,
B'é paidir na caillí nuair a théinn thar a' táirseach,
'Now behave your self, a Spailpín Fánach'.
Translation:
I'm a lively and versatile Wandering Man
and supply me with ladies,
Where in the Spring I'd scatter the seed
twice over the white lands,
Where in the Spring I'd scatter the seed
twice over the white lands,
I'd have my hands on the plough as I follow the horses
And I'd split hills open on the slopes.
And my five hundred farewells to you, my father's district,
and to the beloved island,
And to the crowd of young men behind me
at home who'd help me in time of need,
Dublin is burnt away and Galway will be taken,
we'll have flames on bonfires,
My father will have wine and ale on his table,
such a help to the Wandering Man.
And on the first day in Ireland that I enlisted,
I was tipsy and satisfied,
And on the second day I enlisted
I was sadly tormented,
But on the third day I enlisted,
I'd have given five hundred pounds to leave,
And even if I'd given that I'd hardly
have got my pass to leave.
And one fine day I was down in Galway
and the river was flowing down,
The trout and the eel and the pack of sticks
were there and all such fine things,
The young women there were polite and gentle
and they were slender, amiable and nice,
But there wasn't a young woman that I sat with that
I didn't tell her that black was white.
And I long for the day I'd be in a house
without a sweetheart for twelve years and three months,
For I am a lively spirited young fellow
and I'd woo the gentle beauty,
And it was twelve women who were envying and contending for me,
all hoping to benefit from my spade,
It was the prayer of the old woman as I crossed the threshold,
'Now behave your self, you Wandering Man'.