Get up and put on your clothes
Let me shave your own back
Let us go to the bishop of heaven
Let me be tied to you
I loved and hated you myself
His part in life escaped me
And not a bad person without a purpose
Who would part with him ile sinn
A dream I saw last night
On a bed while I was lying
That it came to me as true
The name of the yellow hairs
His golden hair was cut to grass by her
There is no flood of such magnitude that
I did not cry and, O King, it is worth your clergy
Sleeped last night with a woman?
It's a pity without me and the little niamh
The sweet cheeks from the bay
In the island of Little Crawford Cloister
As the clouds fall to sleep
Where the bird makes its nest
The thread, the branch and the cuckoo
I would cast a spell on the little bird
Bring the light of day away from us
get up and put on your clothes
Let me shave your own back
Let us 'east the bishop of heaven
Let me be bound' until you
I loved you myself
His part in life escaped me
And not a bad person without intention
Would part with him we are together

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS