- 'S iomadh h-oidhche fhliuch is thioram
- Sìde na seachd sian
- Gheibheadh Griogal dhomhsa creagan
- Ris an gabhainn dian
- Chorus:
- Obhan obhan obhan iri
- Obhan iri, o!
- Obhan obhan obhan iri
- 'S mór mo mhulad, 's mór
- Dhìrich mi dh ´an t-seòmar mhullaich,
- ´S theirinn mi ´n tigh-làir,
- ´S cha d ´fhuair mise Griogal cridhe
- ´Na shuidhe mu ´n chlàr.
- Eudail mhóir a shluaigh an Domhain,
- Dhòirt iad d´ fhuil o ´n-dé,
- ´S chuir iad do cheann air stob daraich
- Tacan beag bho d´ chré.
- ’S ged tha mi gun ubhlan agam,
- ’S ubhlan uil’ aig càch;
- ’S ann tha m’ ubhal cùbhraidh grinn,
- 'S cùl a chinn ri lar.
- B ´annsa bhi le Griogal cridhe
- Teàrnadh chruidh le gleann,
- Na le Baran mór na Dalach,
- Sìoda geal mu m´ cheann.
- ´Nuair a bhios mnàthan òg a´ bhaile,
- ´Nochd nan cadal sèimh,
- ´S ann bhios mis´ air bruaich do lice,
- ´Bualadh mo dhà làimh.
| - Many a night both wet and dry
- Weather of the seven elements
- Gregor would find for me a rocky shelter
- Which I would take eagerly.
- Chorus:
- Obhan, Obhan, Obhan iri
- Obhan iri O!
- Obhan Obhan Obhan iri,
- Great is my sorrow, great.
- I climbed into the upper chamber
- And lay upon the floor
- And I would not find my dearest Gregor
- At the table in his place.
- Great darling of the World's people
- They spilt your blood yesterday
- And they put your head on an oaken stake
- Near where your body lay.
- Though now I have no apples,
- And others have them all,
- My own apple, fragrant, handsome –
- And the back of his head on the ground.
- I would be glad to be with dear Gregor
- Guarding cattle in the glen
- Instead of with the great Baron of Dalach,
- White silk around my head.
- While the young wives of the town
- Serenely sleep tonight
- I will be at the edge of your gravestone
- Beating my two hands.
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