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An Seanduine Dóite

This is a popular Irish song about a young woman who is married to a much older man. There are a number of different versions from different parts of Ireland, and it's origins are uncertain. I learnt it at Oideas Gael in Donegal in Ireland.

An Seanduine Dóite

Chuir mise mo sheanduine isteach ins an choirnéal,
A ól bainne ramhair is a dh'ithe aráin eorna,
Dá gcuirfeadh sé a cheann amach bhainfinn an tsrón de,
Agus d'fhágfainn an chuid eile ag na cailíní óga.

Órú 'sheanduine, 'sheanduine dhóite,
Órú 'sheanduine, is mairg a phós tú,
Órú 'sheanduine, 'sheanduine dhóite,
Luigh ar do leabaidh 'gus codlaigh do dhóthain.

Chuir mise mo sheanduine go Sráidbhaile an Róba,
Cleite ina hata agus búclaí ina bhróga,
Bhí triúir á mhealladh is bhí ceathrar á phógadh,
Is chuala mé i nGaillimh gur imigh sé leotha.


Dá mbeadh a fhíos ag mo sheanduine, ó, mar a bímse,
Ag ól is ag imirt le hógfhir na tíre,
Le héirí na gealaí go mbrisfeadh sé a phíopa,
Agus bhuailfeadh sé faic dena bhuig ins an ghríosaigh


Dá bhfaigheadh mo sheanduine an ní a ba chóir dó,
Greamanna ime agus greamanna feola,
Íochtar na cuinneoige is prátaí rósta,
Bhainfeadh sí gliogar as cailíní óga.


Dá bhfeicfeá mo sheanduine ar uair an mheán oíche,
A chos ar am bhac aige 's é deargadh a phíopa,
Gur cosúil le slat mara a dhá lorga chaola,
Is mura ndéanfadh sé ansin é, ní dhéanfadh sé choíche é.


Dá bhfaighinnse mo sheanduine báite i bpoll móineadh,
Cos a bheith briste, is a lorga leonta,
Bhéarfainn 'na bhaile é agus shínfinn faoi chlár é,
Agus shiúlfainn amach leis na buachaillí óga.


The Withered Old Man

I sent my old man into the corner,
Drinking buttermilk and eating barley bread,
If he sticks his head out I'll take the nose off him,
And leave the rest of him to the young girls.

Oh, old man, withered old man,
Oh, old man, it's a pity I married you,
Oh, old man, withered old man,
Lie on your bed and sleep your fill.

I sent my old man to the village of Ballinrobe,
With a feather in his hat and buckles on his shoes,
Three were enticing him and four were kissing him,
I heard in Galway that he would go with them.


If my old man knew, oh, what I'm like,
Drinking and playing with the young men of the country,
From moon rise until he broke his pipe,
And he would hit nothing but his cap in the embers.


If my old man got everything he deserves,
Bites of butter and bites of meat,
Skimmed milk and roast potatoes,
He would make the young girls jump.


I saw my old man at the hour of midnight,
His foot on the hob as he lights his pipe,
His shins as thin as seaweed,
If he couldn't do that, he would never do it.


If I found my old man drowned in a boghole,
His legs broken and his calves bruised,
I'd take him home and stretch him out on a slab,
And I'd walk out with the young lads.


The translation is partly my own, and I welcome corrections and suggestions for improvements.

Here's a recording of me singing this song:

Recordings of this song


Lyrics and information about this song

Other songs in Irish | Songs in other languages

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