Historical Irish Corpus
1600 - 1926

Proverbs - Connaught.

Title
Proverbs - Connaught.
Author(s)
Ní fios,
Compiler/Editor
Mac Néill, Eoin
Collector
Ní fios
Composition Date
1895
Publisher
Connradh na Gaedhilge

Search Texts

Poetry/Prose
1600 1926

PROVERBS — CONNAUGHT.



(Do dhearmaid an sgríbhneoir a ainm do chur leis an
sgríbhinn.)



Ní breághdhacht ghníos brochán acht min.



It is not beauty but meal that makes
porridge.



Ceurd a dheanfadh mac an chuit acht luch a
mharbhadh?



What (else) would the cat's son do but kill
a mouse?



I leighios an ghalra na bí mall,
Ní'l brígh 'sa' luibh nach baintear i n-am.



There is no strength (or virtue) in the herb
that has not been plucked in time (or
in (its) season).



Níor éirigh an dá thráigh leis an ngobaidín
riamh.



The gobaidin (a shore-bird) never yet
managed the two shores.



Cuirfidh mé cloch in do leacht.



I will put a stone in your “leacht” (or
cairn).



I dtroid bhodach le sluagh, is mall buille an
aon-uird.



In the contest of churls with the rabble
slow is the blow of one sledge.



(Munster)



Meithiol mustarúin.



The meithiol of a braggart (said of a poor
person who sends for a great number
of his neighbours or relatives to do a
piece of work which he himself could
easily perform).



Is deacair teasbhach do iomchar.
It is hard to bear one's self in prosperity,
or, it is diffircult to carry excess of
animal spirits (without showing them).



Iríridh deireadh na tréimhse.
Cursing is the last of a period of service.



Is feárr saor síor-bhuilteach ná saor
sár-bhuailteach.
Better is a mason who is constantly ham-
mering than one who hammers too
hard.



Is olc an banbh oscalla agat é.
He is a bad bosom-friend to you (lit. a
banbh of the armpit).



Is olc an gadhar nach íosfadh ablach.
Bad is the dog that would no eat carrion.



Ní hionann aonnídh agus comhrac an tsean-
mhadra.
There is nothing like the fight of the old
dog.



Gaoth ag fear loinge gan lón.
A (fair) wind for a sailor who has no cargo
(or provisions).


L. 11


(73) An báile má thigeann, is suarach mo bheinn air;
Mara dtógfadh sé an leanbh, ní'l eagla an tighe orm.
Is sámh a's is socair do chodlaim an oidhche,
Ag abhrán gach maidin, 's ag seinneamhuint mo phíopa.



Mo chaoirigh ní seolfhar i mbóna ná i ngabhann,
Mo dheachmaidh ní measfar chum sgilling ar domhan;
Aon saghas achrainn níl fé chleathacha an tighe agam,
Acht mo phíopa 's mo leanbh, a's sdúl bacach na dtrí gcos.



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