Все колыбельные На арфе Старые колыбельные

Hunan blentyn, are fy mynwes
Clyd a chynnes ydyw hon
Breichiau mam sy'n dyn amdanat
Cariad mam sy dan fy mron
Ni chaiff dim amharu'th gyntun
Ni wna undyn a thi gam
Huna'n dawel, annwyl bientyn
Huna'n fwyn are fron dy fam

Huna'n dawel hana huna
Huna'n fwyn why del ei lun
Pam yr wyt yn awr yn gwenum
Gwenu'n dirion yn dy hun
Ai angylion fry sy'n gwenu
Arnat yno'n gwenu'n lion
Titha'you'n gwenu'n ol a huno
Huno'n dawel are fy mron

Paid ag ofni, dim ond deilen
Gura, gura are why ddor
Paid aga ofni ton fach unig
Sua, sua are lan why mor
Huna blentyn nid oes yma
Ddim i roddi iti fraw
Gwena'n dawel are fy mynwes
are yr engyl gwynion draw

Baloo baleerie, baloo baleerie

Baloo baleerie, baloo balee

Gang awa' peerie faeries,
Gang awa' peerie faeries,
Gang awa' peerie faeries,
Frae oor ben noo.

Baloo baleerie, baloo baleerie
Baloo baleerie, baloo balee

Doon come the bonny angels,
Doon come the bonny angels,
Doon come the bonny angels,
Tae oor ben noo.

Baloo baleerie, baloo baleerie
Baloo baleerie, baloo balee

Sleep saft my baby,
Sleep saft my baby,
Sleep saft my baby,
In oor ben noo.

Baloo baleerie, baloo baleerie
Baloo baleerie, baloo balee

The October winds lament
Around the Castle of Dromore,
Yet peace is in its lofty halls,
My loving treasure store.
Though autumn leaves may droop and die
A bud of spring are you.
Sing hush-a-bye loo, la loo, lo lan,
Sing hush-a-bye loo, la lo.

Bring no ill winds to hinder us,
My helpless babe and me,
Dread spirit of Blackwater banks,
Clan Owen's wild banshee.
And Holy Mary pitying us
In heav'n for grace doth sue.
Sing hush-a-bye loo, la loo, lo lan,
Sing hush-a-bye loo, la lo.

Take time to thrive, my rose of hope,
In the garden of Dromore.
Take heed, young eagle, till your wings
Are feathered fit to soar.
A little rest and then the world
Is full of work to do
Sing hush-a-bye loo, la loo, lo lan,
Sing hush-a-bye loo, la lo.

Sleep, o babe, for the red-bee hums
The silent twilight's fall:
Aibheall fromt he Grey Rock comes
To wrap the world in thrall.
A leanbhan o, my child, my joy,
My love and heart's-desire,
The crickets sing you lullaby
Beside the dying fire.

Dusk is drawn, and the Green Man's Thorn
Is wreathed in rings of fog:
Siabhra sails his boat till morn
Upon the Starry Bog.
A leanbhan o, the pale half moon
Hath brimmed her cusp in dew,
And weeps to hear the sad sleep-tune
I sing, O love, to you.

Oh hush thee my dove, oh hush thee my rowan,
Oh hush thee my lapwing, my little brown bird.

Oh fold thy wings and seek thy nest now,
Oh shine the berry on the bright tree,
The bird is home from the mountain and valley.
Oh horo hi ri ri. Cadul gu lo