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Ar an leathanach seo
- In the year '98 when our troubles were great,
It was treason to be a Milesian,
I ne'er can forget the big black whiskered set,
When History tells us were Hessians
In troublesome times, were known all sorts of crimes.
And murtherin never was riper
On the hill of Glanaree, not one came form me,
Lived bould Dinny Byrne the Piper:
With me fol-dé-dol-dol-é
Naytheir wedding nor wake was worth an old shake.
If Dinny was not first invited.
For in emptyin the kegs, and in squeezing the bags
He astonished as well as delighted
In those times OH! poor Dinny couldn't earn one penny
Martial Law had a sting like a viper
Kept Dinny within, till his bones through his skin
Was grinnign through rags on the pipers
Wid me fol-de-dol dol est.
One heaven'ly night as the moon shone out bright
And Dinny strolled home through Drumdangan(leanann ar an chéad leathanach eile)Tras-scríofa ag duine dár meitheal tras-scríbhneoirí deonacha.
- Pádraig Ó Cuinneáin