Éamonn an Chnoic

Play recording: Éamonn an Chnoic

Now, this song- There is rumours that Ned Kelly, who roamed the Australian bush, was some relation of Éamonn Ó Ceallaigh, who was thrown out of his lands in 1798, and had to emigrate, because even the girlfriend he had, when it came to the point, she refused to let him enter the house.

She said, ‘Cé hé sin amuigh, a bhfuil faobhar ar a ghuth, ag réabadh mo dhorais dúinte?’ – ‘Who is out there, with the sharpness in his voice, kicking my door in?’ He said, ‘Mise Eamonn an Chnoic, atá báite-‘ ‘I’m Ned of the Hill, who’s tired, weary and wet, through rambling fields and mountains.’ And she said, ‘What can I do for you? If I let you in, I’ll be in the same boat as you. Why don’t you go foreign – go over the sea, go to Australia or something.’ And there’s a strong [rumour] that Ned Kelly was a son of his who roamed the Australian bush in the 1840s. Well, the song is originally in Irish, and that’s the way I’m going to sing it for you.

Cé hé sin amuigh a bhfuil an faobhar ar a ghuth
atá ag réabadh mo dhorais dúnta
Mise Éamonn an Chnoic, atá báite fuar fliuch
ó shíor-shiúl sléibhte is gleannta.
A lao ghil ‘s a chuid, céard a dhéanfainnse dhuit
Mara gcuirfinn ort binn de mo ghúna
Tá púdar go tiubh á shíor-shéideadh leat
Ó, beidh muid araon múchta!

Is fada mé amuigh faoi shneachta agus faoi shioc,
Ní raibh dánacht agam ar aon neach.
Mo sheisreach gan scor, mo bhranair gan cur,
Gan iad agam ar aon chor.
Níl caraid agam – is danaid liom sin –
a ghlacfadh mé moch nó déanach;
Ó caithfidh mé a dhul thar farraigí soir 
Ós ann nach bhfuil aon de mo ghaolta. 

 

Translation

‘Who is that out there, with an edge to his voice,
beating on my closed door?’
‘I’m Ned of the Hill, who’s cold and wet to the skin
from constantly rambling through hills and valleys.’
‘My darling, what can I do for you
beyond putting the train of my gown over you [for a cloak]?
You are constantly being shot at,
and both of us will be killed!’

‘I’m a long time out in the snow and frost,
without the boldness to speak to anybody;
my team unyoked, my fallow field unsown –
not that I have them, anyway!
I haven’t a friend – a fact that I regret –
who would take me in early or late;
I will have to go across the sea,
to a place where I have no relations.’