A Bhuinneán Bhuí is é mo chrá do luí   Is do chnámha sínte ar leaca lom'   Is nach dtearn tú díth no dolaidh sa tír   Is narbh fhearr leat fíon nó uisce poill.   Dá gcuirfeá scéala fá mo dhéin   Go raibh tú i ngéibhinn nó i ndeacair iot'   Ó bhainfinnse béim ar Loch Mhic an Éin   A fhliuchfadh do bhéal is do bhrollach síos.      Ní hiad bhur n-éanlaith atá mé ag éagaoin   An chuach, an traona ná an chorr-bhreac   Ach an Buinneán Buí, a bhí lán de chroí   Is gur cosúil liom féin é i snua is i ndreach.   Bhíodh sé ag síoról na dí   Is deir daoine go mbím ar an nós sin seal   Is níl braon dá bhfuighinn nach ligfinn síos   Ar fhaitíos go bhfuighinn féin bás den tart!      Is é 'd'iarr mo stór orm ligint den ól   Nó nach mbeinnse beo ach seal beag gearr:   Is é dúirt mé léi gur chan sí an bhréag   Nó go mb'fhaide do mo shaol an braon seo a fháil.   Nach bhfeiceann tú éan an phíobáin réidh   Go dteachaidh sí in éag den tart ar ball?   Is a dhaoine cléibh, fliuchaigí bhur mbéal   Nó ní bhfuighidh sibh braon i ndiaidh bhur mbáis!    Oh Yellow Bittern, alas to see you stretched   And your bones there lying on bare flagstones   You did no harm at all in the country   And would just as prefer ditch water to wine   Had you only sent me a message   That you were in a quandry, in need of a drink   I would have broken the ice on the lake   To wet your beak and all the way down to your breast.      I'm not lamenting your ordinary birds   The cuckoo, the corncrake or the dappled heron   But the yellow bittern of the great heart   Who was just like me in many ways   He was always fond of the sup   And people say I'm fond of a drop myself   Whatever drink comes my way, it's down it goes   For fear that I might one day die of thirst!      And my darling asked me to give up the booze   Or I'd only be alive a short while more,   I told her straight out she was telling a lie   And that the drink extended my life's span.   Don't you see that bird with the smooth neck   That only a while ago perished with the thirst?   Ah, my pleasant people, wet your whistles   Because after death ye won't get a drop!