In Irish Language Translations ("Irish Gaelic")

He will fly around the world in his sleigh.
Father Christmas has nine reindeer.. Rudolf, Blixem, Dunder, Vixen, Dancer, Comet, Cupid, Dasher and Prancer.
to a head, forward, ahead
A silent mouth sounds sweet (ie "silence is golden")
I agree with you
I don't agree with you
Get up!(speaking to one person)
Get up! (speaking to more than one person)
Put on your clothes (speaking to one person)
Put on your clothes. (speaking to more than one person)
Put on your shoes. (speaking to one person)
Put on your jacket. (speaking to one person)
Put on your hat. (speaking to one person)
Eat your breakfast. (speaking to one person)
Hurry up! (to one person)
Hurry up! (to more than one person)
Don’t forget to brush your teeth. (speaking to one person)
Bring your bag with you. (speaking to one person)
Speed and precision do not come together.
The man is here
adjective agreement
It's a peaceful place to go walking
wind
the wind
windy
It is windy today!
Strong squalls of wind are promised (i.e. forecast)
It is blowing a gale. (‘It is a gale’)
gusty; breezy
It’s a breezy day.
light breeze
sea-breeze
There isn't a puff of wind.
It's an ill wind that blows nobody good.
As long as you have a light heart and nimble feet!
And a sharp mind!
What emerges is that they are easy-going people
Before long, the white horse was galloping
Through an orchard in which exotic fruits where growing
He took one orange fruit from a tree
Do you know, you are totally right
That lines up with what my brother says
That's it exactly
I completely agree with you
Oisín sat behind Niamh on the white horse's back
And the coldness warming.
From Saint Bridget's day onwards. The birds do be making nests, The sheep do be giving birth to the lambs, And the day getting longer.
He's my champion, my Gallant Darling
He's my Caesar, a Gallant Darling
I've found neither rest nor fortune
Since my Gallant Darling went far away
Once I was gentle maiden
But now I'm a spent, feeble widow
My consort strongly plowing the waves
Over the hills and far away
Every day I'm constantly enduring grief
Lamenting bitterly and shedding tears
Because my lively lad has left me
And no news is told of him - alas
The cuckoo doesn't sing cheerfully after noon
And the sound of hounds isn't heard in the nut-tree woods
Nor a summer morning in a misty glen
Since my lively boy went away from me
Gallant Darling for a while under sorrow
And Ireland completely under black cloaks
I have found neither rest nor fortune
Since my Gallant Darling went far away
She is your granny, she is your granny
She's your granny, the hag with the money
She is your granny, from the town of Erris
And she would put coaches on the roads of Cois Farraige
If you'd see the steam going past Tóin Uí Fhloinn
And the wheels turning speedily out from her flanks
She'd throw the rudder nine times to the rear
But she'd never keep pace with the hag with the money
Do you reckon they'll marry, do you reckon they'll marry
Do you reckon the old hag with the money will marry?
I know they'll not marry, I know they'll not marry
Because he is too young, and he would drink the money
Soon will marry, soon will marry
Soon will marry, two in this village
Séan Shéamais Mhóir and Máire Ní Chathasaigh
Soon will marry, soon will marry
When I go to bed at night I do be thinking of the fish
When I get up in the morning I dash out to the cliff
The birds give me pleasure as they sit in the mouths of the holes
And the whale at the Tor Dhearg casting the herring across its back
I think of the fishing net and the boat on which it is
I think of the oars and their strokes in the waves
I think of the rain and the strength that was in the wind
And of every time I hung the rudder on with the tiller at its end
How pretty are the scales shining on our shoes
And it was often as easy to thow them overboard as it was to sell them
But we have to go the channel with them come rain or shine
Where the merchant will be happy to see us and we'll get a bottle of ale
When I sit by the fire, I think of the time
That my wee curragh and I were out on top of the waves
And nothing between me and eternity but the thin tarred cloth
Protecting from wind and sea amongst the birds of the cliffs
Now that I am old and I'm getting feeble and sick

In Irish Translations — Page 67