Scoil: Caladh na Feirsde (uimhir rolla 13481/2)

Ar an leathanach seo

1. The Curse of the Bottle

   

   Roinn Roinn Postáil

   

   Níl tú logáilte isteach, ach tá fáilte romhat tras-scríobh a dhéanamh go hanaithnid. Sa chás seo, déanfar do sheoladh IP a stóráil ar mhaithe le rialú cáilíochta.

   I I'm weak in my members, my spirits are low And scarce can I write these few verses Cold as the water my blood seems to flow And moves with constraint through my vessels. My senses do wander, I suffer great pain Nor can I unconscious of any complain Thy judgements my God, should they ever remain Because they were caused by the bottle. II Let others with pleasure sing Bacchus' praise And toast him when heated in liquor Yet him will I curse to the end of my days For the sun-shine of saints he did chequer When I enter the ale-house my mind is inflamed I then fall in drinking, that innocent game! The thoughts of my God and His Church I disdain So great is the curse of the bottle. III O! look at the drunkard, how sorrowful, pale How full of disease is his visage He rages, he storms, O hear him blaspheme And Satan seems there on his visit. The turbulent passions have now got the sway To rape and to murder they twig him away. His neighbours or friends he will injure or slay

   (leanann ar an chéad leathanach eile)

   Sábháil Cealaigh

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