Tradycyjne - The Castle of Dromore

October winds lament around
The Castle of Dromore,
Yet peace is in its lofty halls,
A pháisde bán a stór,
Though autumn winds may droop and die,
A bud of spring are you –
Sing hushaby, lul, lul, lo, lo, lan,
Sing hushaby, lul, lul, loo.

Bring no ill wind to hinder us,
My helpless babe and me –
Dread spirit of Blackwater banks,
Clan Eoin's wild banshee,
And Holy Mary pitying,
In Heaven for grace doth sue.
Sing hushaby, lul, lul, lo, lo, lan,
Sing hushaby, lul, lul, loo.

Take time to thrive, my Rose of hope,
In the garden of Dromore;
Take heed young Eagle – till your wings
Are weathered fit to soar;
A little time and then our land
Is full of things to do.
Sing hushaby, lul, lul, lo, lo, lan,
Sing hushaby, lul, lul, loo.