'Án Bunnan buídhe', sung by Al O'Donnell, from the album 'Al O'Donnell 2' released in 1978.
I have also seen the title spelled as "The Bunnan Bui" or "The Buinneán Buidhe". The English title is "The Yellow Bittern". A bittern is a bird, a type of heron.
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Lyrics:
Oh, the Bonnan bui that ne'er broke out
in a drinking bout, might as well have seen;
His bones lie thrown on a naked stone
Where he lived all alone like a hermit monk.
Oh, the Bonnan bui, I pity your lot,
Though they say that a sot like myself is curst,
I was sober a while, but I will drink and be wise
for I fear I may die in the end of thirst.
It's not for the common birds that I'd mourn,
The black-bird, the corn-crake or the crane,
But the Bonnan bui that's shy and apart,
and drinks in the marsh from the lone bog-drain.
If I had known you were near your death,
while my breath held out I'd have run to you,
'till a splash in the Lake of the Son of the Bird
your soul would have brought to life anew.
My darling told me to drink no more,
or my life would be over in a little while;
But it's the taste of the whiskey,
that gives me health and strength,
and will lengthen my road by many a mile.
You can see how the bird of the long smooth neck
he would get his death from the thirst at last
so come, son of my soul, and fill your glass,
You'll get no sup when your life is past.
In a wintering island by Constantine's halls,
a bittern calls from a wineless place,
and tells me that hither he cannot come,
'till the summer is here and the sunny days.
When he crosses the stream there and wings o'er the sea
Then a thought comes to me he may fail in his flight,
well, the milk and the ale are drunk every drop,
And a dram that won't stop our thirst this night.
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From the album notes:
Cathal Buídhe mac Chiolla Ghunna (Fair haired Charles Gunn or Gilgunn) wrote this song (in Irish) in the early part of the 18th century. He is still remembered in the lore of the eople of Ulster as a rake who lived wild and loose all his days.
Tradition has it that one winter during a period when he was attempting to quit drinking he stumbled across the bodye of a Bunnán buidhe (yellow bittern) which had died of the thirst beside Lough McNean which was completely frozen over. Even though his true love might wish him to drink no more Cathal Buidhe is resolved notc to share the fate of the bittern:
'I was sober a while, but I'll drink and be wise,
For fear I may die in the end of thirst.'
It is a pleasure to record that Cathal Buidhe died at a ripe old age, about 1756. This translation is by Thomas McDonagh.
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All credit goes to Al O'Donnell. I only put the music and images together for promotion, so Youtube can enjoy this great artist.
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