CISTe-ceoil

FOGHLAIM NA GAEILGE
I joined an Irish language class a little while ago.
They tried to teach me Irish but you know I’m very slow.
A fluent Irish speaker I had always longed to be,
But this is all the Irish they could hammer into me:
Curfá:
Ó cad é mar tá tú, how are you?
Sin ceart! means that’s right
Tá mé go maith, I’m very well
And oíche mhaith’s good night
Cad é an t-am? means what’s the time
Níl a fhios agam! is I don’t know
At least that’s what they told me
But you know I’m very slow.
I met big Eddie McLaughlin in the street the other day,
“Cad é mar tá tú ’Éamoinn?” I merrily did say.
He blattered away in Irish till my poor heart it was sore.
“I’m very sorry Éamonn, but this is all I know:
I faced the adjudicator at the Feis in Ballymun.
He asked me twenty questions but I couldn’t answer one.
He asked me this and he asked me that and in despair he cried,
“Do you know any Irish at all, at all?” and proudly I replied:
Oh! some day soon, with the help of God and a bit of studying too,
I’ll pass out for my fáinne, and this is what I’ll do –
I’ll have a wee Irish class of my own, and I’ll say ‘Now Éistigí!
Fanaigí ciúin, le bhur dtoil, and say this after me:
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