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The Old Man of Kilcockan – Irish Original : Seanduine Chill Chocáin
English version of Donal O'Sullivan

By prayer and entreaty and threat they did worry me
To be wed to a gaffer my youth denied,
On leaden feet to the priest they did hurry me,
With a heart stone dead while the knot was tied.
I like not his gait nor the rheumy red eyes of him,
His furry grey brows, the groans and the sighs of him.
I long for a young man, to lie and to rise with him,
Who would kiss and caress me at morning-tide!

All maids yet unwed, whether wealthy or dowerless,
Be warned by my fortune against old drones;
For I lie by a dotard both shrivelled and powerless,
As good to possess a heap of bones.
Wide-eyed each night, with a heart that’s like lead in me,
I think of the withered old creature’s that wed to me,
Compared to the stalwart that might lie abed with me,
Clasping me to him with love’s sweet tones!

Six-guineas I’d give, and I’d pay it right readily,
If someone would put my old man away,
Come on him by stealth and take aim at him steadily,
Make sure of the target and earn his pay :
Or if in the sea he could set about drowning him,
Lay him flat in the ditch and knock the wall down on him,
Or perhaps even better still just to throttle the jowl of him
And leave him for dead just before the day!

Last night as I lay between waking and sleeping
I heard that my wretched old man was dead;
I leapt from the pillow, my gratitude heaping
On the man in the ditch who had done the deed.
They made up their story while there was still breath in him,
‘Twas the bay mare that kicked him – and that was the death of him,
Go, take to the young man this news that is best for him –
In the grave at Kilcockan my wretch is laid!

Seanduine Chill Chocáin
Is teinn duch an pósa, fó-ríor, a gealladh dom,
Go h-óg mé ceangailthe ‘g críon-donan!
Nuair a chureadh le fórsa ‘n-a chomhair go tigh an tsagairt mé
Im chroí bhí m’atuirse ar linn le rá.
Ní thaithneann a shiúl, a lúth ná a sheasamh liom,
A mhala throm chlúmhach ná a shúile dearaga,
Go mb’fhearr liom óigfhear a phógfadh mo leaca,
Mo chroí gur cheangail san óg-bhuinneán!

‘S a chailíní óga, mo chomharle má dheineann sibh,
‘S is teinn dúch atuirseach bhím dá bharr,
‘S mé ‘lui lé seanduine caite gan luadar,
‘S ná fuil dá bharr agam ach uail bheag cnámha!
A’ machtnamh a bhím san oíche ar mo leabaidh
Ar a’ seanduine gcríona, len’ aois go gcrapann sé,
Seochas a’ gcroí-fhear a shínfeadh ar leabaidh liom,
‘S go mb’fhiú é ar maidin a phóg úd ‘fháil!

Thúrfainn sé phíosa, ‘s é ‘dhíol ar a’ dtairrnge,
D’éinne beó ghlacfadh mo sgéal ‘n-a láimh,
Do lúifeadh ar shúil mo sgrúile seanduine,
Má thiocfadh a gan fhios i gcomhair é ‘lámhach:
Chuirfeadh ‘á bhátha é i lár na fairrge,
Shinfeadh sa’ díg é ‘s a’ claí do leaga air,
Nú cár bh’fhearr é mar ní an píop a chnaga dhe,
‘S mo sgrúile ‘fháil marbh leath-uair roim lá?

Araoir ar mo leabaidh ‘s mé a’ machtnamh trim nealtaibh,
‘Sea d’airíos gur cailleadh me sheann-donán;
D’éirios im sheasamh ‘s do ghabhas mile baochas
Leis a’ té úd a mhairbh sa’ díg ar lár.
Sé airím ‘á bhuachnaint gur shuathadar eatorrtha é
Gurbh í an lair rua do bhuail is do mhairbh é,
Beir sgéal leat uaim go dtí an buachaillín meacanta
Gur chuireas me sheanduine I gCill Chocáin!

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©Jane Lyons November 2003

From Ireland ©Jane Lyons April 2001-February 2003