Éamonn a Chnoic
Amhrán na Seachtaine – Song of the Week
“Éamonn a Chnoic“
Today’s song “Éamonn a Chnoic”, which translates to “Ned of the Hill” in English, is believed to have originated in the late 18th century during a time of political upheaval in Ireland. The song tells the story of Éamonn Ó Riain, a Gaelic noble who becomes a ropaire (a political outlaw) after the Cromwellian conquest dispossessed him of his land. A legendary figure known as a highwayman and an outlaw he fought against British rule. The song portrays Éamonn’s bravery, his struggles, and the longing for freedom. This mournful ballad is usually sung in Irish, but various English versions are popular as well. For more information about Ned chek out his Wikipedia page, Éamonn a Chnoic.
I’ve included links to an interview with Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin by Ilse de Ziah in 2013, where they discuss the origins of the melody. Additionally, you’ll find Séamus Ennis showcasing his exceptional uilleann pipes skills while playing the tune at the Willie Clancy Summer School in 1978.
There are numerous recordings of this timeless ballad, but I have selected a few favorites. Connie Dover and The Wolfe Tones have captured the essence of the song in their renditions, infusing it with their unique styles and emotive interpretations. Additionally, Montreal singer Jenny Gilbert delivers a beautiful rendition on the album “Crooked Jack, Liam Callaghan & The Water Life,” adding her own touch to this powerful ballad.
A digital download of the lyrics and translation along with a simple score of the melody along with an mp3 pronunciation guide is available at Éamonn a Chnoic Digital Downloads.
Additionally, there is a video pronunciation guides on the @GaeilgegoDeo YouTube channel. Éamonn a Chnoic YouTube.
Éamonn a Chnoic
Cé hé sin amuigh a bhfuil faobhar ar a ghuth,
a’ réabadh mo dhorais dhúnta?
Mise Éamann a’ Chnoic, atá báite fuar fliuch,
ó shíor-shiúl sléibhte is gleannta.
Who is that outside with an edge to his voice, hammering on my closed door
I’m Eamann of the hill who is drenched, cold and wet,
From forver walking the hills and valleys.
A lao ghil ‘s a chuid, cad a dheánfainn-se dhuit,
mura gcuirfinn ort binn de m’ ghúna?
‘S go bhfuil púdar go tiubh, ‘á shíor-shéideach leat
‘s go mbeimis araon múchta!
My love and my treasure, what would I do for you
but cover you with a corner of my dress
And black gunpowder will be
fired endlessly at us, and we will both perish
Is fada mise amuigh faoi shneachta is faoi shioc,
‘s gan dánacht agam ar éinne.
Mo sheisreach gan scor, mo bhranach gan chur,
is gan iad agam ar aon chor!
I have been out in the snow and frost for a long time, I don’t bother anyone.
My plough team unyoked, , my fields unsowed,
And I don’t have them at all!
Níl cara agam —is danaid liom san—
a ghlacfadh lion moch nó déanach.
‘S go gcaithfidh mé rith thar farraige soir,
ó’s ann nach bhfuil aon de mo ghaolta.
I don’t have a friend, how I regret that,
That would take mé in early or late
And so I must go east over the sea, since none of my people live there.
A chúl álainn deas na bhfánnaí cas,
is breá ‘gus is glas do shúile
Tá mo chroí á shlad mar a shníomhfaí Gad
le bliain mhór fhada ag tnúth leat
The beautiful back of the steep slopes,
it’s fine and green your eyes are
My heart is pierced like a slat would be woven
with a long year of looking forward to you
Dá bhfaighinnse le ceart cead pósta ‘nois leat,
‘s éadrom ‘s is deas a shiúlfainn,
is mo smaointe, a bhean, ag éalú leat
faoi coillte ag spealpadh ‘n drúchta.
If I could get permission to marry you now,
I would walk light and nice,
And my thoughts, lady,
escaping with you, through the woods glistening with the dew.
A cumann ‘s a shearc, ó rachaimid seal
faoi choillte na meas cumhra,
Mar a bhfaighaimid an breac is an lon ar a nead,
An fia is an poc ag búireach;
O, Friendship and love, we’ll spend time in the fragrant woods
As we find the trout and the loon on their nest,
The stag and the puck bellowing,
Na héiníní binne ar ghéigíní ‘seinm
‘s an chuaichín ar bharr an iúir ghlas,
Is go brách, brách, ní thiocfaidh an bás
inár ngáire, i lár na coillte cumhra.
The sweet birds singing on branches,
and the cuckoo on the green yew,
There’ll be no end to our laughter
in the middle of the fragrant woods
Beir scéala uaim soir go hainnir chiúin
an tsuilt gur chaill na neadacha a n-éanlaith,
Gur aréir a thit an sneachta ’r na cnoic,
amach ar fud na hÉireann.
Bring tidings from me to the east, that joy is silent
since the nests lost their birds,
That last night the snow fell on the hills,
all over Ireland.
Dá maireadh liom rith go seachtain ó ‘niu,
do rachainn ar mire d’fhéachaint,
Is gurb fhearr liom anois a bheith báite sa mhuir
ná a rá go mbeifeá go réidh liom.
If I lived to run a week from today,
I’d go crazy looking, I’d go crazy to see you,
Now I would rather be drowned in the sea
than say that you would be waiting for me.
Digital downloads of Amhrán na Seachtaine songs with translations and pronunciation guides are now available here:
Additionally, there are videos with pronunciation guides for each song on the @GaeilgegoDeo YouTube channel.
Wolf Tones
Jenny Gilbert
Tá súil agam go mbainfidh sibh taitneamh astu.
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