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“An rugaḋ riaṁ ar an ḃfear duḃ?” arsa mo ḋeirḃṡiúr.
“Ní rugaḋ, muis’,” arsa m’aṫair. “Is beag an baoġal a ḃí air.”
“Cia’rḃ é an fear duḃ, meas tú, a ḋeaide?” arsa mise.
“Creidim i láṫair Dé,” arsa m’aṫair, “gur pílear ó Ċaisleán Ḃaile Áṫa Cliaṫ a ḃí ann. Ċonnaic Cuimín Ó Niaḋ fear an-ċosṁail leis ag taḃairt fiaḋnaise i n-aġaiḋ buaċalla eile i dTuaim bliaḋain ina ḋiaiḋ sin.”
“A ḋeaide,” arsa Seaġáinín go hobann, “nuair ḃéas mise im’ ḟear, marḃóċaiḋ mé an fear duḃ sin.”
“Sáḃálaiḋ Dia sinn!” adeir mo ṁáṫair.
Leag m’aṫair a láṁ ar ċloigeann Ṡeaġáinín.
“B’ḟéidir, a ṁaicín,” ar seisean,” go mbeaḋ muid uilig ag baint teaillí-hó as an arm duḃ sul raċas cré orainn!”
“Tá sé i n-am Paidrín,” adeir mo ṁáṫair.
(A ĊRÍOĊ-SAN)
