Search Results

A new bursary commemorating the author and musician Risteard Mac Gabhann (1938-1923) is being set up to support Irish language cultural practitioners in the North West. Broadcaster Joe Mahon made the announcement at the unveiling of a specially-commissioned portrait of his lifelong friend at the Derry Cultúrlann. Mr Mahon has generously started 'Ciste Mhic Gabhann' with a donation of £5000 and says he hopes other funders will now also contribute to it. More than 100 people attended the ceremony on January 2, where the unveiling was conducted by Risteard Mac Gabhann's family, including his wife Joan, daughters Ciara, Áine and Treasa, and grandsons Fionn and Cian. The portrait was created by Derry artist John McCandless and was sponsored by the Ultach Trust. Colmcille Press, which published Mr Mac Gabhann's magnum opus Claisceadal cois Baile shortly before his death in May 2023, will help administer the new bursary along with Ciara Nic Gabhann, the Derry Cultúrlann and Joe Mahon himself. Tá sparánacht nua á bunú in ómós an údair agus cheoltóra Risteard Mac Gabhann (1938-1923) chun tacú le cleachtóirí cultúrtha na Gaeilge san Iarthuaisceart. Rinne an craoltóir Joe Mahon an fógra ag nochtadh portráide speisialta dá chara-saoil i gCultúrlann Dhoire. Tá 'Ciste Mhic Gabhann' tosaithe go fial ag an Uasal Mahon le síntiús de £5000 agus dúirt sé go bhfuil súil aige go gcuirfidh maoinitheoirí eile leis anois freisin. D’fhreastail níos mó ná 100 duine ar an searmanas ar an 2 Eanáir, áit ar reáchtáil teaghlach Risteard Mac Gabhann an nochtadh, lena n-áirítear a bhean chéile Joan, a iníonacha Ciara, Áine agus Treasa, agus a gharmhic Fionn agus Cian. Chruthaigh an t-ealaíontóir as Doire, John McCandless, an phortráid agus rinne Iontaobhas Ultach urraíocht uirthi. Cuideoidh Colmcille Press, a d’fhoilsigh magnum opus Claisceadal Cois Baile an Uasail Mhic Gabhann go gairid roimh a bhás i mBealtaine 2023, an sparánacht nua a riaradh in éineacht le Ciara Nic Gabhann, Cultúrlann Dhoire agus Joe Mahon féin.

There have been hundreds, if not thousands, of people who have contributed to the DUG campaign for an independent, cross-border university in northwest Ireland over the past year. We are grateful for all the support - and would like to mention a few in our first annual awards list. Parliamentarian of the Year (Stormont) Winner: Sinead McLaughlin MLA (nominated for her work on the new Regional Balance Bill) Honourable Mention: Dr Caoimhe Archibald MLA (nominated for refusing to raise student fees)  *** Parliamentarian of the Year (Dáil Éireann) Colm Burke TD (nominated for his long-term championing of an independent university as the last unresolved civil rights demand) *** Parliamentarian of the Year (Westminster) Mike Kane MP (nominated for his recent work on the NI Select Affairs Committee and long-term support for a cross-border NWU) *** Most Significant Government Intervention (Belfast, Dublin & London) £40m Shared Island funding of the new Magee Teaching Block, as sanctioned by Taoiseach Michéal Martin and Tánaiste Simon Harris)  ***   University Leader of the Year (Atlantic Coast) Dr Orla Flynn (President of the multi-campus, federal university, ATU)  *** University Leader of the Year (Eastern Coast) Dr Eucharia Meehan (President of the Dublin Institute for Advance Studies and former co-chair of the Royal Irish Academy Futures All-Ireland Research and Innovation Committee.) *** University Partnership of the Year Queen's University Belfast and Dundalk IT (nominated for the announcement of their formation of a cross-border, federal university) *** Investigative Reporter of the Year Winner: Garrett Hargan, Belfast Telegraph NW Reporter and author of ‘A Scandal in Plain Sight’ *** Newspaper Column of the Year Nominees: Tom Collins (‘Time to stop the rot and give Derry the university it needs and deserves’, Irish News); Tom Collins, (‘UU award cannot disguise its neglect of the North West’, Irish News); Brian Feeney (‘Keep the civil service away from decisions on Derry’, Irish News); Conal McFeely (‘Governments must team up to deliver the NWU’, Derry Journal); Pat McArt (‘So tell me… what are you going to do for the North West?’, Irish News) Joint Winners: Tom Collins (for ‘Time to stop the rot and give Derry the university it needs and deserves’), Brian Feeney & Pat McArt. *** Best Book ‘A New Ireland - A Five Year Review’ by Paul Gosling *** Best Blog Winner: Conal McFeely (Derry must move now to establish its own cross-border university, colmcillepress.com ) *** Find of the Year The Derry Journal’s extended report from July 31, 1850, detailing plans to open an independent university in Derry and to fight Belfast attempts to steal the funding. (Sourced by Seamus Breslin.)  *** Special Award To Professor Gerry McKenna MRIA, who receives the North West University’s Honorary Doctorate 2025, for services to cross-border education in Ireland. [*Garrett Hargan received the first honorary doctorate from NWU upon the publication of his investigative history ‘A Scandal in Plain Sight’ in 2024] ENDS

Oíche Chiúin: Stille Nacht: Silent Night Ceacht 6: Úrchnoc Chéin Mhic Cáinte ~ The Lush Hill of Cian Mac Cáinte Ag ceiliúradh foghlama na Gaeilge trí sheanamhráin ~ Celebrating learning Irish through old songs Curtha in eagar ag Risteard Mac Gabhann Edited by Risteard Mac Gabhann Iomann Nollag a chantar chomh forleitheadach sin ar fud an domhain, gur bhronn UNESCO i 2011 gradam air mar ‘shaothar cruthaitheach dobhraite d’oidhreacht an domhain’. Cumadh an ceol in 1818 ag an cheoltóir Ostaireach Franz Gruber agus na focail ag sagart óg Ostaireach Joseph Mohr. Ó shin i leith, rinneadh é a aistriú go dtí na céadta teanga. Is é Tadhg Ó Donnchadha (1874-1949) a rinne an t-aistriúchán breá Gaeilge seo. Is ón bhunleagan le Mohr an véarsa láir anseo le hómós do bhunús Ostaireach an iomainn. A Christmas hymn, which is so widely known throughout the world that it was declared by UNESCO in 2011 ‘an intangible world heritage creation’. The music was composed in 1818 by the Austrian musician Franz Gruber and the original lyric by a young Austrian priest Joseph Mohr. Since then, it has been translated into hundreds of languages. This fine Irish translation was done by Tadhg Ó Donnchadha (1874 – 1949). The middle verse is from the Mohr version to acknowledge the carol’s Austrian origin. Oíche chiúin, oíche Mhic Dé, Silent night, the night of the son of God, Cách ina suan, dís ar aon, Everyone asleep, the couple both, Dís is dílse ag faire le spéis, Most faithful couple, watching intently, Naíon beag gnaoigheal, ceananntais caomh, A little infant beauty-bright, soft-browed gentle, Críost ‘na chodladh go séimh, Christ softly sleeping, Críost ‘na chodladh go séimh. Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, Silent night, holy night, Alles schläft, einsam wacht All are asleep, except the watching, Nur das traute hoch heilige Paar. Faithful, most holy pair, Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar, Holy infant in curling hair, Schlaf ’ in himmlischer Ruh , Sleep in heavenly peace, Schlaf ’ in himmlischer Ruh Oíche chiúin, oíche mhic Dé, Silent night, the night of the son of God, Aoirí ar dtús ‘ chuala an scéal, Shepherds first heard the news, Alléluia! aingil ag glaoch, Alleluia! angels calling, Cantain suairc i ngar a’s i gcéin, Joyful singing near and far, Críost an Slánaitheoir féin, Christ the saviour himself, Críost an Slánaitheoir féin. Christ the saviour himself. Beautiful version from Enya here/Leagan álainn ó Enya ar fáil anseo: Oíche Chiúin

By Conal McFeely, Derry University Group The Belfast Telegraph's North West Correspondent, Garrett Hargan, was given a civic award in October 2024 by Mayor Lilian Seenoi-Barr following the publication of his history of the Derry university saga, A Scandal in Plain Sight. (Pic: Martin McKeown) For more than 60 years Stormont, under the guise of its university, NUU/University of Ulster/Ulster University, has deliberately restricted Derry’s growth - and it is continuing to do so today.  This is not a matter of opinion - this is a matter of hard fact. Those in need of comprehensive data and evidence need look no further than Garrett Hargan’s superlative, and aptly-titled, investigative history of UU, A Scandal in Plain Sight.  Almost a decade ago, in the wake of Brexit, it rapidly became apparent that there could be major opportunities and benefits for Derry as the only major city abounding both the EU and the ‘UK’.  Talk was rife of free ports being opened and us becoming the new Hong Kong. In the immediate aftermath of Brexit, the Derry University Group met with the Irish government and proposed that an independent cross-border university could become the cornerstone for regenerating this most disadvantaged region of the island. The new institution, we argued, would also stand as a permanent monument to future good faith between Britain and Ireland - serving as a bridge, not a border. And before long, it became clear that the Irish government was listening. In  2021, the Oireachtas, through its educational leaders in the Royal Irish Academy, formally proposed a new North West University, stretching from Coleraine to Sligo, with Derry as its main hub. Dublin then sponsored a specialised RIA taskforce to produce a more detailed blueprint as to how this could work. The following year, following a meeting with the Derry University Group, the London government also included the proposal for a Derry-centred cross-border university in its first command paper on Legacy. Then in 2024, the Irish followed up with its in-depth roadmap paper on a North West University from the RIA, which was consolidated by Dublin’s offer of £40m for a new university teaching block for Derry. Conal McFeely (r) and Kevin Hippsley of the Derry University Group at the 2022 unveiling of a 55-foot long mural calling for action on the university.   Ulster University and Stormont, however, have relentlessly opposed the move to give Derry any autonomy at every level from the outset - culminating in an extraordinary performance at the NI Select Affairs Committee in Westminster last month, when the clearly-rattled UU Vice Chancellor attempted to dismiss the two RIA papers as some sort of unsanctioned pipe dreams. That, however, was the very same day that Queen’s University and Dundalk IT announced a new partnership to open the island’s first cross-border university - on that model first mooted by the Derry University Group and blueprinted by the RIA.  So UU, yet again, was exposed for what it has been for sixty years - an institution that puts Belfast’s interests first and holds Derry back. The border town of Dundalk - a town less than half the size of Derry - has been struggling for a a long time to acquire university status for its IT campus, which is roughly the same size as Magee. But the cross-border masterstroke only came into being in the last few months. This time last year, it was being suggested Dundalk would attempt to join the Atlantic Technological University (ATU) - which would not have made sense geographically, as it is more than 120 miles from any of the campuses. And the Queens partnership, as roadtested by the RIA, made a lot more sense and was developed in a matter of months - not years. Foyle MP Colum Eastwood has raised the case for an independent cross-border university with the Irish government - and has backed a universities Oversight Commission for the North as recommended by the Royal Irish Academy. Derry is so ready to move forward - independent from the restraints of UU, its anti-North West bias and its crippling debt. UU, remember, has repeatedly refused to invest any of its own resources into Derry - leading to a chronic physical infrastructure shortfall and an accommodation crisis. Its failure to allocate courses in any fair or accountable way, has, for generations, led to our city fighting for scraps with our equally-neglected neighbours in Coleraine, while Belfast (formerly Jordanstown) fills its boots.  We have the support from Dublin (though incredibly UU wasn’t able to find any spare change in the £40m grant it was allowed to administer to erect bilingual signage – as is now the law here), we have the student numbers to make an autonomous NW viable, and the blueprint, as devised by the academy is waiting. The Department of the Economy, which supervises Higher Education, is promising an all-encompassing review of the sector. And we will be demanding some genuine game-changers in the form of new all-Ireland HE structures and the introduction of a HE Regulator, which would both scrutinise the North’s university sector and also oversee the dissolution of UU into its component parts.  We will also be calling on Derry, Donegal, Sligo and Coleraine to develop a regional economic/educational partnership to deliver the RIA’s NWU vision, in tandem with sponsors such as the Dublin government and others. This needs to happen immediately. Dundalk went from bit player to being a partner in the island’s first cross-border university in a matter of months.  Dundalk and Queen’s have shown what can be done when the civic and political will is there. And done quickly. Derry’s urgency is even greater. It is time for the political and civic elite - and for the Executive and Derry/Strabane Council - to decide what side they’re on.  The campaign for an independent university was established by John Hume (r) more than sixty years ago. The Nobel Laureate is pictured here with Nationalist MP Eddie McAteer (l) and Derry's unionist mayor Albert Anderson on the steps of Stormont after 25000 people took part in a cavalcade from Derry in February 1965.

Your starter for ten: what has been the fasting-selling local book in the North West this season? And for your bonus: why shouldn't you be alarmed? You've guessed it – the first run of The Handy Wee Quiz Book, released just a fortnight ago, is almost sold out. But don't worry, a second print is heading rapidly towards Derry from the printers and will be at our offices well in time for the Christmas market. Colmcille Press is delighted at the success of the book, which has featured on both BBC Radio Foyle's Mark Patterson Show and in the Derry Journal. Director Garbhán Downey said: 'Many people are buying it for older members of the family, who might have competed in Derry's quiz scene in its heyday, as a Christmas gift. Others say they're intending to use it to organise a quiz for all the family after the Christmas or Stephen's Day dinner. There's plenty in it for all ages - from Derry Girls to local social media celebs, and from ancient history to the North West's massive cultural heritage. 'You can find copies of the book at Waterstones, Foyle Books, Visit Derry and at our offices in Ráth Mór - and we're delighted to announce that our much-depleted stock will be replenished at the weekend with the arrival of our second print.'

Derry authors Felicity McCall, Ken Thatcher, Paul Gosling, Colum Arbuckle and Pat McArt were among the audience at Ráth Mór on Friday December 5 for the launch of Conor Bowman’s new fiction The Half-Life of Edith Hopkins. In a very well-received speech, the Meath-based barrister explained his personal motivations for writing the work, which centres on the Tuam Mother & Baby Home. Bowman himself was born in Castle pollard home in the 1960s.

Author KEN THATCHER writes about his recent trip through the badlands of the NHS and how how he was forced to endure a 120-hour wait in Altnagelvin Hospital's Emergency Department before finally getting a bed on a ward 'We were a band of mostly elderly people trying to squeeze as much comfort as possible from a hard chair, praying for a moment of sleep which never came' TO BEGIN, a bit of background. I am no stranger to our NHS and am a firm advocate of it, Having suffered from Crohn’s Disease for the last thirty plus years I am quite familiar with how the system works, I have experienced a flare-up of my symptoms for several months which had necessitated visits to my GP, the Out of Hours doctors and when needs must to the Accident and Emergency Department. By the last weekend of October, Halloween, my symptoms had become entirely unbearable. I was no longer counting the number of visits I was making to the facilities but the number of toilet rolls I was using in a day. On the Friday I visited my GP who knows me well. He was sufficiently concerned to phone my consultant at Altnagelvin who arranged to have me seen at my next infusion visit the following Tuesday in four days’ time. This happened and my medication was changed and a follow-up arranged. By the weekend things had become worse. On Sunday morning I could no longer contain myself, before ten o’clock I had visited the toilet no less than twenty times. I phoned the Out of Hours doctor and got an appointment for 12.15. I saw the doctor on duty who gave me a very thorough examination and concluded very rapidly that my condition was above his paygrade, and the sensible course of action was to go to the ED .  I was swiftly transported by wheelchair to the ED, arriving at about 1pm to begin my adventure. From the Waiting Area I was swiftly taken to Triage where I had bloods taken, a medical history given and then returned whence I had come. Sometime later I was triaged as appropriate for further examination and brought back into the inner sanctum where I was transferred from the care of a nurse and was seen by a doctor. Time had also passed, but you expect that in ED. I was becoming well versed in the recounting of my ailment and so when I spoke to my second doctor, he decided I was worthy of a canula and further investigation. By this point time had become irrelevant. My long-suffering wife decided she needed a break and a breath of fresh air and went home bristly.  It was by now 6pm, Six hours in ED. My wife returned from home only marginally refreshed. Inexorably time moved on. We all know how hospitals operate; at key moments some tasks are no longer possible. As we approached one of these deadlines my wife sought out one of the more senior doctors and demanded to know what the plan was. There was a plan of sorts. I had been admitted, was in the system and wheels would turn. And so began the slow grind of finding an appropriate spot to spend the night. My wife went home for some well-deserved rest. Myself and three or four others tried to find an appropriate spot to spend the night. We found ourselves at a particularly awkward intersection in an area called Minors. There was considerable badinage as we tried to keep each other’s spirits up. Even on a Sunday night we hoped, maybe prayed that something, anything, might happen. Before I continue, I should familiarise you with the layout of the ED. In the waiting area there are two toilets, in the nearby Triage area there was one toilet. As one progressed into the building there were  undoubtedly more but were hard to find. I’m sure that the facilities satisfied all building regulations, but do they take account of people like me. People with Crohn’s or similar diseases of the bowel? Let me tell you I think not. The long and the short of it is this; no matter what lengthy expedition I undertake I now protect myself with disposable pull-up underpants, just in case. As my sojourn in the ED rolled inexorably on so did the feral matter in my bowel. As I walked briskly towards the toilet a person nimbly stepped in front of me and nipped into the WC closing the door firmly in my face. Things were beginning to trundle or more likely to flow. I strode as best I could to the next facility, perhaps twenty metre or so away. Calamity, occupied. I hobbled back, hips clenched, towards my original destination and gained access. Disaster, I could no longer hold. The inevitable happened. My only source of protection, my pull-ups, were now out of commission, I adjusted my dress, disposed of the pull-ups and left. Once again, I reclaimed my chair. By good fortune I was wearing a dressing gown, long enough to cover any mishaps.  My little group tried to console one another by reflecting on our good fortune on having been admitted with the expectation of treatment and a bed, eventually. The night wore on. Once again, I had trouser issues which I resolved in the toilet by various scrapings and rubbings. Suddenly a nurse appeared. I was on the move at last. We set off up unknown corridors, I dreamed of stretching out on a nice clean bed, even a trolley would do. We crunched to a halt. My reverie interrupted, I found myself confronted with some of the patients I had seen earlier on the outer periphery of the department. My chair was parked up against the wall, but at least I had moved. As I gathered information from my fellow sitters, I realised that we had penetrated the inner sanctum and whats more we were being fed, shaky plates balanced on shaky knees with measured portions of pasta bake. We were a band of mostly elderly people trying to squeeze as much comfort as possible from a hard chair, praying for a moment of sleep which never came, In the course of the night I had the misfortune to witness the stress caused by lack of sleep. Voices were raised, tempers flared, fuelled by tiredness and a lack of hope, family groups disintegrated. Dawn doesn’t break in the ED, they simply turn the lights on Day two dawns Somewhere in my head I have a notion that I had seen a senior doctor who had  found my condition serious and stated that when a bed became available I would be taken straight to a ward. Knowing what I do about hospitals, I thought it unlikely that wards would discharge patients first thing on Monday so I braced myself for a wait. In the meantime, we all ate a healthy breakfast of pancakes and tea. My insides were beginning to calm down , presumably thanks to the medication which I was being given. Around 8am the ED began to come to life and all of a sudden there were doctors everywhere, reviewing the patients who had accumulated overnight. I kept looking for a familiar face. About 9am I made inquiries and was assured that doctors from Gastroenterology were on their way. I overheard a conversation and guessed that this was the person to whom I should speak. I was informed that my name was on their list and that I would be seen in the course of time. Being well brought up, I knew to defer to doctors, that they knew best. I resumed my seat but, all the while , keeping an eagle eye on the doctors. Suddenly I was approached by yet another doctor from the Gastro department. They couldn’t find a room to afford me some privacy so, if I didn’t mind being seen in the corridor, in the public gaze, then I could tell my story. I was by now, well-rehearsed in the relating of my symptoms to which the doctor listened politely, then, pointing out that the doctor from the night before had had no authority to promise me a bed, said he would be back after he had seen other patients. I felt I had done my best and retreated to try to find some sleep. Sleep eluded me. The rest of the morning was spent waiting for lunch to arrive which it duly did. Pasta Bake. There was much chat among our little band but no one came and no patients left for pastures new. In the afternoon a doctor arrived and tried to persuade me that I could be treated at home. I explained that that had already been tried the month previously and here I was back with the same problem. I needed to be seen and treated. As the afternoon wore on I realised that I had not had an opportunity to wash or brush my teeth, there were no facilities for such. My long-suffering wife arrived with a change of clothing and a toothbrush, that was the highlight of the afternoon. The day wore on without any sign of movement. Our little band remained constant. Nurses passed amongst us from time to time but no one moved out and no one arrived. Any questions we had elicited the same response. There were no available beds, the wards were full. Tea-time came and went. My only consolation was that there was a toilet nearby and my innards were calming somewhat. Tea and toast came about eight o’clock and that was it for the night. We were still about five or six souls living in hope. And so we faced into our second night in the ED still without any significant sleep. I think it was about this stage that I began to have hallucinations. At one stage I believed that I was playing a part in a drama which had been laid  on for our entertainment, at another stage I thought that one of my fellow patients was being held against their will and I began to hatch a plot to facilitate their escape. This would involve violence and the use of my walking stick, as luck would have it my natural bent for cowardice won the day and I did nothing. I dread to think what the various nurses with whom I shared these thoughts made of me. The night wore on and I managed to avoid making a spectacle of myself. Nurses came and went giving me the appropriate  medication and  as dawn broke I gathered my wits once more. Come to think of it, dawn doesn’t break in the ED, they simply turn the lights on. Eventually I was pushed into my allocated space. I was still in the ED and my space was a small square no bigger than the trolley, immediately outside a toilet and adjacent to a heavily used pathway between departments. My wife was horrified, I was too far gone to care. At last breakfast arrived with the welcome cup of tea and pancakes. The ED began to stir and we braced ourselves for the day ahead. Doctors came and went. I recall speaking to one of the consultants who was familiar with my complaint, that gave me some hope. The day wore on, nothing happened. After lunch my wife returned with more fresh clothing, I had not had a proper wash for seventy two hours, I’m sure I had  developed a bit of an odour. Sometime in the late afternoon there was a breakthrough. Rumours of free bedspaces swept through our little band, Our number began to dwindle, I remained unmoved. Suddenly a senior member of staff arrived, space had been found for the three remaining patients. My spirit soared and once again I began to dream of lying down, of sleeping. A nurse appeared with a trolley to transport me to a place of comfort. My wife was with me to help get me sorted, I was pushed on the trolley for a minute or two then we came to a halt. Things began to get a little weird. I thought I was outside waiting for an extension to the hospital to be completed before I could get my space for a bed. Even worse, I thought for some reason I had been put into a Tesco trolley to travel to  my destination. Eventually I was pushed into my allocated space. I was still in the ED and my space was a small square no bigger than the trolley, immediately outside a toilet and adjacent to a heavily used pathway between departments. My wife was horrified, I was too far gone to care. Fortune was on my side, a consultant whom I had seen earlier happened to pass by. My wife nabbed her and in no uncertain terms told her what she thought of my circumstances. The doctor was in complete agreement with my wife and was very sympathetic but unable to do anything.  Suddenly the nurse accompanying me spotted an opportunity and myself and the trolley were whisked towards a vacant space just opposite the nurses ‘  station.  At last, after two nights on a chair, a space to call my own. Who would have thought a cubicle could  have fell so grand. Progress had been made. You might have thought so but, Tuesday night came and went. Being at the nurses’ station might have  sounded interesting, but it was busy. Everything and everybody passed that way, all that lay between me and them was a curtain. But sure we were on the move. Treatment for my complaint seemed to be working and the sense of urgency was declining. All I had to do was wait, and wait and wait. And wait I did, Wednesday became Wednesday night.  At one o’clock on Thursday morning I was shaken awake. Once again I didn’t know where I was  I thought there was a fire and the ward was being evacuated but I was finally on the move, off to a proper bed in a proper ward and the promise of a proper sleep. I had been in the ED for more than one hundred and twenty hours. I woke early as you do in hospital and began the day with a long-awaited shower. A doctor came and explained how they intended to treat me and I lay back to enjoy hospital routine. In the afternoon, and not for the first time, I experienced the dubious  pleasures of a sigmoidoscopy, Three days later I was discharged with a plan, a fistful of drugs and a hope for improvement. To conclude. In my five days on a chair and on a trolley in ED I never experienced a cross word from any member of staff. I was always treated with respect although the understanding of the Crohn’s sufferer could be improved as might the understanding of the anxiety and urgency that they experience. During my stay I watched the staff as they went about their business. They never strolled to a task they strode. They were efficient and quick, remained patient and were I believe doing their very best in trying circumstances. Eight days as a guest of the WHSST,  hopefully never to be repeated but , being a bit of a polyglot, 'Qui sait?’ or ‘Que sera, sera.’ KEN THATCHER is currently working on the second volume of his memoirs, the sequel to The Wife Sister's Wee Boy, (published by Colmcille Press in 2023).

Still looking for that perfect Christmas present? Signed books from a range of our authors are now available online will also be available at Conor Bowman's launch at Ráth Mór this week, including copies of:  * BBC broadcaster and latter-day seanchaí Ken McCormack's collection of curious old tales from the North West, The Lady in Black * Guitar maestro Colum Arbuckle's memoir, Radio, Romance & Rock'n'Roll (CA will also be playing a tune or two) * Royal Literary Fellow Felicity McCall's  new short story collection, What We Did on Our Holidays * Gerry Quinn of Creggan Country Park's exquisitely-produced angling bible, Fly Fishing for Trout and Salmon on the Faughan * Financial journalist Paul Gosling's analysis on preparations for a border poll, A New Ireland: A Five Year Review * Garbhán Downey's Handy Wee Derry Quiz Book * Novelist Jim Simpson's warm celebration of Derry culture, craic and politics, True Colours , and * Bailiúchan nua ón file Paul Laughlin, Dorn San Aer: Filíocht ó Dhoire go Gaza . Dozens of other books are also available in our online shop and will also be available at the launch along with loads of interesting authors and friends.

Writer Conor Bowman at the cemetery in Castlepollard Mother & Baby Home, where he was born COLMCILLE PRESS is hosting a pre-Christmas  launch and Oíche Airneáil at Ráth Mór’s Hive Studios on Friday, December 5. Proceedings will open at 5.30pm with the launch of ‘The Half-Life of Edith Hopkins and Other Stories’, new fiction collection centring on the Tuam Mother & Baby Home, penned by barrister Conor Bowman.  Following on from this, the guitar virtuoso and recent author, Colum Arbuckle, and his guests will serve up music and chat. Then, for those out searching for that special Christmas gift, there’ll be a chance to get signed copies of books by authors from the Colmcille Press stable, many of whom will be in attendance. Work published by CCP in 2025 includes: Felicity McCall’s short-story collection, ‘What We Did on Our Holidays’; Colum Arbuckle’s memoir, ‘Radio, Romance & Rock’n’Roll’; Paul Laughlin’s poetry collection, ‘Dorn San Aer: Filíocht ó Dhoire go Gaza’; ‘Flight of the Swallows: Journeys of Lived Experiences’ by the Foyle Foodbank;  Paul Gosling’s political critique, ‘A New Ireland, A New Union: A Five Year Review’; The Handy Wee Derry Quiz Book (edited by Garbhán Downey & Joseph Martin); and Deirdre Devine’s new collection, ‘Carrying Light: A Life in Poetry’.  All these titles and dozens more – and, of course, Conor Bowman’s new collection – will be available to purchase on the night. Proceedings get underway at 5.30pm, admission is free, and light refreshments will be provided. Conor Bowman SC is a highly-acclaimed writer with nine titles under his belt including one in Irish. 'The Half-Life of Edith Hopkin and Other Stories' begins with a novella (the title story), which tells of a teenaged mother whose infant baby is removed from her at the Tuam home in the 1960s and how her life unfolds in the aftermath. It is a nuanced, compassionate and elegant tale, made more significant by the fact that the author himself was born in the Castlepollard Manor Mother & Baby Home in 1965.  Full interview with Conor Bowman by Garrett Hargan from the Belfast Telegraph, November 24, 2025 here .

The new Handy Wee Derry Quiz Book, containing hundreds of questions in dozens of categories, will give you and the quiz-lovers in your family hours of fun this Christmas - and possibly the odd dispute or two! For those who love the North West, there are sections on its ancient and modern history, saints and scholars, entertainers and sports stars, important visitors and dear departed friends. It's not just Derry, either - Inishowen, Tirconnell and North Tyrone also feature large too. And for those who enjoy variety in their quizzes, there are of course picture rounds, Who am I rounds and Ten-sion rounds Priced just a tenner - the Handy Wee Derry Quiz Book has landed back from the printers in record time and will be in the shops from the end of the week. Order your copy today from Colmcille Press, or pick up one from your local bookshop. The perfect stocking filler!

A section of the packed audience at the launch of Felicity McCall's What We Did on Our Holidays, captured by Bernie Mullen. Scores of writers, readers, journalists, trade union activists, friends and relatives of Felicity McCall descended on Derry's Central Library on Saturday November 15th for the launch of her new short story collection What We Did on Our Holidays. (Derry News photo-spread here) The book was launched by Jim Simpson (True Colours) another Derry-based writer whom  we’ve had the great fortune and pleasure to work with at Colmcille Press. He was an ideal choice to interrogate this masterful collection - a creator and craftsman in his own right, with a calm, reflective wisdom. Jim interviewed Felicity about her life and her writing, which the author interspersed with readings from the new collection. Introducing the event, Colmcille Press director Garbhán Downey said: " Felicity has served this region - in tough times and in good - as a diligent reporter and honest commentator; as a producer and editor; as a fiction writer, a screen-writer, and a playwright; as a campaigner; and, crucially, as a generous mentor, to many of us who might never have made the mark without her quiet help and guidance. "We hear these various voices from Felicity - and many more - in What We Did on Our Holidays, an exceptional work of creative fiction – a book which is also, perhaps, a more personal and powerful memoir than anything I have ever read. For, Felicity is a writer, one of those happy few, who has decided to leave it all on the page. "Felicity uses fiction to bare truths that others would never want to see printed. She uses it as a spotlight, not a filter. There is an honesty in this writing that is searing and sometimes even very unsettling, as happens when great writers reveal to us those truths that are not universally-acknowledged. Those truths that everyone migh prefer remain hidden.  "But it’s not just the honesty that shines through the work. There is also an underlying compassion in this work, a self-healing, that makes even the starkest of themes - like dementia, and trauma, and catastrophic addiction - bearable and survivable, in the knowledge that there will be redemption on the other side. As she writes in her letter to her younger self at the end of the book: ‘It does get better…You will transform yourself…Fight your way out of that unhappy body and emerge.’ And as we now know - she did exactly that." The event concluded with a questions and answers session, featuring many established authors who have worked with Felicity in writing groups in the North West - and also a contribution from her three-year-old grandson! Speaking afterwards, a delighted Felicity said: "Thanks so much to everyone who sent good wishes, came in person and in any way supported today’s book launch- a brilliant turnout of friends from diverse areas of my life, sharing our mutual enjoyment of the power of words. Proud, humbled. grateful and happy ." What We Did on Our Holidays is available to order from the Colmcille Press shop , Waterstones and Foyle Books .

Úrchnoc Chéin Mhic Cáinte ~ The Lush Hill of Cian Mac Cáinte Ceacht 6: Úrchnoc Chéin Mhic Cáinte ~ The Lush Hill of Cian Mac Cáinte Ag ceiliúradh foghlama na Gaeilge trí sheanamhráin ~ Celebrating learning Irish through old songs Curtha in eagar ag Risteard Mac Gabhann Is as Cian Mac Cáinte, athair Lugh Lámhfhada, duine de mhórphearsan na miotas Gaelach agus Ceilteach, a ainmníodh an cnoc seo. Inniu is faoin ainm leamh Béarla Killen Hill is fearr eolas air agus tá sé suite cúpla míle ar an taobh thiar thuaidh de Dhún Dealgan. Is gné an-neamhshuntasach den tírdhreach anois é de bhrí go ndearnadh cairéal den chnoc sa 19ú Céad agus ar an dóigh seo cailleadh cuid mhór den mhullach agus scriosadh na séadchomharthaí a bhí le feiceáil air. Nuair a chum Peadar Ó Doirnín (1684-1769) an t-amhrán, bhí Cnoc Chéin Mhic Cáinte fós slán agus ina ionad lán d’iontas agus de dhiamhracht agus ina spreagadh an-chumhachtach ag filí Oirialla. Is fearr aithne ar Pheadar Ó Doirnín mar fhile amhrán grá, agus is sampla iontach dá chumadóireacht an t-amhrán seo lena shaibhreas maisiúchán agus maorgacht friotail. Is fear eile as Oirialla, Peadar Ó Dubhda, a chum an ceol, a chluintear coiteanta leis inniu, Bhain sé duais Oireachtais leis i 1907. Cian Mac Cáinte, the father of the major figure of Irish and Celtic mythology Lugh Lámhfhada, is the mythic figure after whom this hill was named. Today it is known more prosaically as Killen Hill and is located a few miles northwest of Dundalk. It is a rather inauspicious feature of the landscape nowadays, largely due to its being used as a quarry in the 19th Century, which greatly reduced its height and destroyed the archaeological remains on its summit. When Peadar Ó Doirnín (1684-1769) composed the song, the hill of Cian Mac Cáinte was still intact and was a place of wonder and mystery and a powerful stimulus to the imagination of the poets of southeast Ulster. Peadar Ó Doirnín is known best as a composer of love songs and this, with its rich scheme of ornamentation and elevated, sophisticated language, is an excellent example of the genre. The music now associated with it is attributed to Dundalk man Peadar Ó Dubhda (1881-1971), who won a prize with it at the 1907 Oireachtas. A shuaircbhean séimh na gcuachfholt péarlach, Gentle joyous lady of the lustrous curling tresses, Gluais liom féin ar ball beag, Come away with me a while, Tráth is buailte cléir is tuataí i néalta, When the clergy and the lay folk lie in deep slumber, Ina suan faoi éadaí bána, Asleep under white coverlets, Ó thuaidh go mbéam* i bhfad uathu araon, [*go mbeimid] To the north where we will be far away from them all, Teacht nuachruth gréine amárach , With the new rising sun tomorrow, Gan ghuais linn féin in uaigneas aerach, Secure by ourselves in delightful seclusion, San uaimh sin Chéin Mhic Cáinte. In that haven of Cian Mac Cáinte. A phlúr na maighdean is úire gné, Flower of maids of freshest complexion, Thug clú le scéimh ón Ádhamhchlann*, [*clann Ádhaimh] Famed for beauty in the human race, A chúl na bpéarlaí, a rún na héigse, Lass with the lustrous hair, inspiration of poets, A dhúblas féile is fáilte, Who doubles generosity and welcome, A ghnúis mar ghréin* i dtús gach lae ghil , [*grian] Countenance bright as the sun at the dawning of every day, A mhúchas léan le gáire , Who extinguishes anguish with laughter, Is é mo chumha gan mé is tú, a shiúr, linn féin , It’s my sorrow, my love, we’re not together, Sa dún sin Chéin Mhic Cáinte . In that haven of Cian Mac Cáinte. A rún mo chléibh, nach mar siúd ab fhearr duit , Love of my heart, wouldn’t it be best for you, Tús do shaoil a chaitheamh liom , To spend the start of life with me, 'S gan a bheith i gclúid faoi léan ag búr gan chéil l, And not be in a corner distressed by a senseless boor, I gceann tuirne is péire cardaí , Working at a spinning wheel and a pair of carding combs, Gheobhair* ceol na dtéad le lúth na méar, [*gheobhaidh tú] You will have stringed music played by agile fingers, Do do dhúscadh* is véarsaí grá, [*dhúiseacht] To waken you and verses of love, 'S níl dún faoin ghréin chomh súgach aerach , And there’s no haven under the sun as lively and joyous, Le húrchnoc Chéin Mhic Cáinte . As the lush hill of Cian Mac Cáinte. Tá an t-amhrán seo le cluinstin ag Cór Thaobh a’ Leithid ar an albam Siansaí DMGB 002

An Chúileann ~ The Fair Maiden Ag ceiliúradh foghlama na Gaeilge trí sheanamhráin, curtha in eagar ag Risteard Mac Gabhann Ceacht 5: An Chúileann ~ The Fair Maiden Ceann de na hamhráin is cáiliúla i gceolchiste na Gaeilge agus creidtear gur Muiris Ó Dubhagáin, fi le as an Bhinn Bhorb i gContae Th ír Eoghain a chum é sa 17ú Céad. Is ó ‘cúl’ agus ‘fi onn’ a thagann an téarma ‘cúileann’ agus seans go dtagraíonn sé do stíl ghruaige mná a bhí faiseanta san am, díreach mar a thagrófaí inniu don ‘chailín le stíl ghruaige punc’. One of the most celebrated and widely known Irish songs, which is commonly attributed to Muiris Ó Dubhagáin, a poet from Benburb, Co. Tyrone, who lived in the 17th century. The term cúileann is derived from cúl (head of hair) and fionn (blond), and may refer to a distinctive hairstyle of the time, just as a woman nowadays might be referred to as ‘the one with the punk hairstyle’. Téacs an amhráin agus an t-aistriúchán/Text of the song and translation An bhfaca tú an Chúileann ‘s í ag siúl ar na bóithre, Did you see the Fair One walking on the roads, Maidin gheal drúchta ‘s gan smúit ar a bróga? On a bright dew-fi lled day and her shoes spotless? ‘S iomaí ógánach súilghlas ag tnúth lena pósadh, Many a green-eyed lad is hoping to marry her, Ach ní bhfaighidh siad mo rúnsa ar an gcuntas* is dóigh leo. [ *Abair ‘cúntas’] But they’ll not get my love as they imagine. An bhfaca tú mo bhábán lá breá ‘s í ina haonar, Did you see my babe one fi ne day alone, A cúl dualach drithleannach go slinneán síos léi? Her gleaming hair in tresses down to her shoulders? Mil ar an ógbhean is rós breá ina héadan, A lass sweet as honey and a fi ne rose on her brow, ‘S is dóigh le gach spreasán gur leannán leis féin í. And every good-for-nothing thinks she is his darling. An bhfaca tú mo spéirbhean ‘s í taobh leis an toinn, [tonn] Did you see my dream girl sitting beside the sea, Fáinní óir ar a méara ‘s í ag réiteach a cinn? Gold rings on her fi ngers combing her hair? ‘S é dúirt an Paorach, a bhí ina mhaor ar an loing, [long] Said Mister Power, who was steward of the ship, Go mb’fhearr leis aige féin í ná Éire gan roinn. That he’d rather have her than to have Ireland without division. Leagan eile iontach ó Siobhán Armstrong anseo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZfbhUptDCrM&list=RDZfbhUptDCrM&start_radio=1

Fáth Mo Bhuartha (The Cause of My Anguish) Ag ceiliúradh foghlama na Gaeilge trí sheanamhráin, curtha in eagar ag Risteard Mac Gabhann Ceacht 4: Fáth Mo Bhuartha ~ The Cause of My Anguish Is minice anois a chluintear an t-amhrán álainn seo mar cheol uirlise ná mar amhrán, agus is trua sin nó tá na véarsaí iontach álainn chomh maith. Tá patrún saibhir ríme go cothrománach ar gach líne agus go hingearach trí gach véarsa, a chuireann diminsean suntasach eile le ceolmhaireacht an amhráin. Tá an saol crua atá i gceist sa mheafar ‘turas na Cruaiche’ ag deireadh an chéad véarsa, ag tagairt don oilithreacht cháiliúil (agus anróiteach) go Cruach Phádraig i gContae Mhaigh Eo. Is é an file as Maigh Eo Riocard Bairéad (1739 – 1810) is mó a luaitear leis an amhrán breá seo. This beautiful song is probably better known now as an instrumental piece at traditional music seisiúin, which is a pity, since the words are also very attractive. There is a rich pattern of vowel rhymes arranged horizontally and vertically throughout each verse, which adds another dimension to the musicality of the composition. The hard life implied in the ‘Cruach journey’ metaphor at the end of the first verse is probably a reference to the famous penitential pilgrimage mountain Cruach Phádraig in County Mayo. The song is attributed in some sources to the Mayo poet Riocard Bairéad (1739 - 1810). Téacs an amhráin agus an t-aistriúchán/Text of the song and translation Is é fáth mo bhuartha nach bhfaighim cead cuarta, The cause of my anguish is that I’m not permitted to visit, Sa ghleanntán uaigneach mar a mbíonn mo ghrá, The lonely glen where dwells my love, Bíonn mil ar luachair ann, im a’s uachtar, There’s honey on rushes there, butter and cream, A’s i dtús an fhuachta bíonn na crainn faoi bhláth, And at the start of the cold (season) the trees are in bloom, Níl gaoth aduaidh ann, níl sneachta crua ann, There’s no north wind there, there’s no hard snow there, Tá caladh a’s cuan ann ag long a’s ag bád, There’s harbour and shelter there for ship and boat, A’s tá tuilleadh bua ann, níl turas na Cruaiche ann And there’s more benefit there, there’s no hard life there, Don té a dhéanfadh suas lena mhuirnín bán. For the man who’d make up to his fair love. Is é dúirt mo stór liom, ó bhí tú óg deas My love said to me, since you were young and pretty, Go ndéanfá foghlaim ar éalú liom, That you would contrive to elope with me, A’s nach mbíonn tráthnóna nó maidin fhómhair, For there isn’t an evening or an autumn morning, Nach tú an réalt eolais a bhíonn ag dul romhainn, That you’re not my guiding star going before us, Ag siúl na móinte a’s na gcoillte cnómhar’, Walking the heathlands and the nut-filled woods, Ní bhíonn orm brón ná duibheagán croí, I’m never in sorrow or heavy of heart, Ach mé bheith pósta le mo mhíle stóirín, If I were just married to my thousand treasures, A’s mo lámh go bródúil ar a brollach mín. And my hand proudly on her gentle breast. Leagan eile iontach ó Eleanor Shanley anseo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kubsvZ_vNAI

It has been a busy time for Colmcille Press authors, whose new books have been making waves in regional and national media this week. Financial journalist Paul Gosling has been writing about the island's readiness for a referendum in The Irish Times and has also featured in an extended interview on Newstalk . Royal Literary Fellow Felicity McCall was interviewed on BBC Radio Foyle's Mark Patterson Show (@40 mins) and also featured in both the Derry Journal and Derry News . McCall will be launching her 'memoir-inspired' short story collection 'What We Did On Our Holidays' at Derry's Central Library on November 15. And barrister Conor Bowman SC was interviewed about his new fiction centred on the Tuam Mother & Baby Home by BBC Radio Ulster’s Sunday Sequence presenter Audrey Carville (@29 mins). 'The Half-Life of Edith Hopkins will be launched in the Law Library, Distillery Building, Church Street, Dublin next Thursday, October 30.

Bríd Óg Ní Mháille Ag ceiliúradh foghlama na Gaeilge trí sheanamhráin, curtha in eagar ag Risteard Mac Gabhann Ceacht 3: Bríd Óg Ní Mháille – Young Bríd O'Malley Amhrán grá a aithnítear go forleathan ar fud Éireann agus a thagann i dtosach, de réir na logainmneacha a luaitear sna véarsaí, ó Chontae Mhaigh Eo. Amhrán simplí tíre é ach tá sé maisithe go galánta le patrún saibhir ornáidí (rím agus uaim). A popular love song of the folk tradition, which, judging from the placenames mentioned in its verses, probably originated in County Mayo. The song also has a quite rich pattern of traditional ornamentation (vowel rhymes and alliteration), as indicated in the first verse. Téacs an amhráin agus an t-aistriúchán/Text of the song and translation 'S a Bhríd Óg Ní Mháille ‘s tú a d’fhág mo chroí cráite, And young Bríd O’Malley, it is you who left my heart tormented, 'S chuir tú arraingeacha an bháis trí cheartlár mo chroí, And sent stabbing pains of death through the very centre of my heart, Tá na céadta fear i ngrá le d’éadan ciúin náireach, Hundreds of men are in love with your serene, demure look [lit. brow] 'S gur thug tú barr breáthacht’ ar Thír Amhlaigh más fíor. And you have conquered all of Tirawley for loveliness. Níl ní ar bith is áille ná an ghealach os cionn an tsáile, There’s nothing more beautiful than the moon above the sea, Ná bláth bán na n-airní, a bhíos ag fás ar an draighean, Or the white blossom of the sloes growing on the blackthorn, Oró! siúd mar a bhíos mo ghrása níos trilsí le breáthacht, Oh! that’s how my love is, more radiant in loveliness Béilín meala na háilleacht’ nach ndearna riamh claon. The little honeyed mouth of beauty that never deceived. Is tuirseach agus is brónach a chaithimse an Domhnach, Wearily and in sorrow I while away my Sundays, Mo hata i mo dhorn ‘s mé ag osnaíl go trom, Clenching my hat ( lit.in my fist) and sighing heavily, 'S mé ag amharc ar na bóithre, a mbíonn mo ghrá geal ag gabháil ann, Watching the roads she is wont to walk, Anois ag fear eile pósta a’s gan í a bheith liom. Now married to another man, no longer with me. Leagan iontach Síle Ní Fhlaithearta anseo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-YrnF7HaMo

Author Felicity McCall presenting a copy of 'What We Did On Our Holidays' to Kiefer Averilll, branch manager, Waterside Library Felicity McCall's new short-story collection 'What We Did On Our Holidays' will be officially launched on Saturday November 15m at Derry's Central Library, at an event supported by Libraries NI. (Booking advisable.) The new book is now available from local libraries, and from Waterstones and Foyle Books. You can also order copies from Colmcille Press. It has been warmly previewed in the North West media, including by BBC Radio Foyle's Mark Patterson, who described the book as a collection of 'beautiful little testimonials'. McCall's interview with The Patterson Show is available below, starting at 37mins 30secs.

Ó Pheann Dick Mac Gabhann Ag ceiliúradh foghlama na Gaeilge trí sheanamhráin Ceacht 1: Bog Braon don Seanduine – A Soft Drop for the Old Fella Bhí rang amhránaíochta á reáchtáil ag an cheoltóir Risteard Mac Gabhann i nDoire ar feadh níos mó ná 15 bliana, do chainteoirí Gaeilge de gach cumas. Ina dhiaidh sin, chuir sé leabhar agus bailiúchán MP3 le chéile ina raibh níos mó ná 120 dá amhráin Gaeilge is ansa leis - gach ceann acu le haistriúcháin agus nótaí coise - agus d'fhoilsigh sé iad seo mar Claisceadal cois Baile díreach trí seachtaine roimh a bhás i mBealtaine 2023. Sna míonna amach romhainn, tá Cló Cholmcille chun cuid de na hamhráin seo a shraithuimhir, in éineacht leis na haistriúcháin, na nótaí agus léiriú ceoil Dick ar an saothar. The musician Risteard Mac Gabhann ran a singing class in Derry for more than 15 years, for Irish-speakers of all abilities. He subsequently compiled a book and MP3 collection of more than 120 of his favourite Irish songs - all with translations and footnotes - and he published these as 'Claisceadal cois Baile' just three weeks before his death in May 2023. Over the months to come, Cló Cholmcille are going to serialise some of these songs, accompanied with the translations, notes and Dick's musical rendering of the work. Ceacht 1: Bog Braon don Seanduine (A Soft Drop for the Old Fella) Téacs an amhráin agus an t-aistriúchán/Text of the song and translation Leagan iontach Bernie Pháid anseo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BImx9_-0KY

Tá Mé i Mo Shuí: I Cannot Sleep Ceacht 2: Tá Mé i Mo Shuí, leagan Risteard Mac Gabhann Ceacht 2: Tá Mé i Mo Shuí – I Cannot Sleep Amhrán beag séimh grá, a bhfuil beagán den chumha ag baint leis agus a thosaíonn le véarsa álainn atmaisféarach. Tagann téama an ghrá mar ghalar nach bhfuil aon leigheas air ó thraidisiún na dtrúbadóirí i litríocht mheánaoiseach na hEorpa – amour courtois / an grá cúirtéiseach – téama atá an-choitianta i dtraidisiún amhránaíochta na Gaeilge. Seo an chéad sampla den ornáidíocht a théann le cuid mhór de na hamhráin seo. De réir fhianaise na teanga ann, is dócha gur cumadh i gCúige Uladh é. A gentle melancholic love song, which begins with a beautifully atmospheric verse. The view of love as an incurable illness ultimately derives from the amour courtois (courtly love) tradition of the troubadours of medieval Europe, which had a significant influence on the Irish song tradition. This is the first example of the ornamentation associated with many of these songs. From the evidence of the language, the song was probably composed in Ulster. Téacs an amhráin agus an t-aistriúchán/Text of the song and translation Tá mé i mo shuí ó d’éirigh* an ghealach aréir, I’m awake since the moon rose last night, Ag cur tine síos gan scíth is ag fadú go géar, Restlessly adding to the fire and stoking it wearily Tá bunadh an tí ina luí is tá mise liom féin, All the family are asleep and I’m by myself, Tá an coileach ag glaoch ‘s an saol ina gcodladh ach mé . The cock is crowing and the world’s asleep but me. [ * Abair / Say ‘d’írigh’ ] Seacht mh’anam déag do bhéal, do mhala 's do ghrua , I love your mouth, your brow and your cheek, Do shúil ghorm ghlé fár thréig mé aiteas is suairc’, Your clear blue eye, that caused me to abandon the joyful life, Le cumha i do dhiaidh, ní léir dom an bealach a shiúl, I miss you so much, I can’t see the way before me, 'S a chara mo chléibh, tá na sléibhte idir mé agus tú. My heart’s delight, we are separated by the mountains. Casadh bean sí orm thíos ag Lios Bhéal an Átha , I met a fairy woman down at Lisballina, Is d’fhiafraigh mé di an scaoilfeadh leigheas ar bith grá, And I asked her if any cure could heal love, D’fhreagair sí mise i mbriathra soineanta sámha, She answered me in words both simple and gentle, Nuair a théann sé fán chroí, cha* scaoiltear as é go bráth. When it reaches the heart, never will it be freed from it. [  * = ní ] Leagan Clannad anseo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDmDnwgcxJQ