1. |
Fonn mo Leannan
03:21
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Ho ro hi mo ghaol a' ghruagach
Dh'àraicheadh an tìr nam fuar-bheann;
Ach nam biodh tu nochd rim ghuallain,
Cha b' e gruaimean bhiodh air m' aire.
Sèist
Co-dhiù thogainn fonn mo leannain
Anns gach àit' san ruig mi cala;
Co-dhiù thogainn fonn mo leannain.
Tha do ghruaidhean mar na ròsan
Dh'fhàsas anns a' mhachair bhòidhich,
Bilean tana 's deud tha còmhnard,
Tha do phòg sìor bhlas na mealla.
Tha do shlios mar fhaoileig sàile,
Dhìreas ris na stùcan àrda,
'S truagh a-nochd nach mi bha làmh ri,
Nìghneag bhàn nam blàth-shùil meallach.
Nì mi nis an rann a dhùnadh
'S fhada leam gu ruith an ùine,
Gus an ruig mi fhìn an dùthaich,
Far na dh'fhàg mi rùn nan cailean.
Translation
Ho ro hi my love the maidean;
Who was raised in the cool mountaings
If you were only by my side,
I would not be so gloomy minded.
Chorus
I will always raise my sweetheart's 'tune'
In every town where we reach port;
I will always raise my sweetheart's 'tune'.
Your cheeks are like the roses
That grow in the bonny machair,
Fine lips and a beautiful smile,
Your kisses are like the honey.
Your complexion is fine as the seagull,
That climbs to the highest points,
It's a pity tonight that I'm not near,
The blond haired girl of the warm, pleasant eyes.
I'll now complete my verses,
As I wait impatiently for time to pass,
Until I reach the land,
Where I left my dearest love.
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2. |
Fàgail Shiadair
05:03
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Fàgail Shiadair air mo chasan
Thèid mi Mhallaig air a’ bhat’
‘S bheir an treine sinn a Ghlaschu
‘S gun dùil tighinn air ais gu bràth
Cha bhi dùil am tilleadh tuille
Ma thèid mi idir thar sàl
Tha falt mo chinn dhomh ag innse
Gu bheil mo thìde gu bhi ‘n àrd.
Chan fhaic mi na daoine chleachd mi
Chan fhaic mi sgadan no bata
Chan fhaic mi ann slige maoraich
‘S chan fhaic I faochag ann air tràigh
‘S chan fhaigh mi dubhan ann gu iasgach
‘S cha d’ thoir mi biathadh à tràigh
‘S chan fhaic mi either le seòl ann
rinn bi-beò a bh’ aig a’ bhàird
‘S ann a bhios mi measg nan craobhan
gach aon taobh dhiom iad ri fàs
‘S ged a dheanainn annta dìreadh
Chan fhaic mi ‘n tìr seo nam bàrr
Chan fhaicear leam Eilean Leòdhais
‘S chan fhaic mi ‘n t-Siumpan na h-Àirde
‘S chan fhaicear leam cladh na h-Aoide
Ged tha m’inntinn ann an sàs
Far na dh’ fhàg mi leth mo chride
Dh’ fhàg mi gille ann nach robh ceàrr
Dh’ fhàg mi ‘n aisne bha nam thaobh ann
Cnaimh bu dilse dhomh thar cach
Dh’ fhàg mi aon ann de m’ fhiaclan
Thug mi as mo bheul le cràdh
‘S e coltach gum biodh iomadh mile
Eadar i ‘s far ‘n cuirear càch
Translation
Walking through Shader as I leave
I'll head to Mallaig on the boat
From there the trainn will take us to Glasgow
Without ever expecting to return
I don't believe I will be back here
If I ever mange to even cross the ocean
The hair of my head tell me
That my time is almost up.
I wont see the people I used
I wont see the herring or a boat
I wont see any shellfish
Or a winkle on the shore
I wont get a hook to fish there
Nor take food from the shore
Neither will I see a boat with her sails
That was the livelihood of the bard.
For me I will be amongst the trees
On each side of me they'll grow
And even if I was to climb to them
I wouldn't see this land from their tops.
I wont see the Isle of Lewis
I wont see the Tiumpan of Aird
And I wont see the Eye Cemetry
Where my mind continually wonders.
Where I left the other half of my heart
I left a son who was perfect
I left the rib from my side
More faithful than any other could be.
I left there one of my teeth
Which I painfully removed from my mouth
When it appears that there will be many miles
From she lies and where we will be.
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3. |
Thug iad a Thung thu
04:24
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Gu dè ged dh'èireadh a' ghrian,
Gu dè ged a ghoireadh na h-eòin?
Ceòl fìdhle no pìoba cha dèan
Dèan sugraidh dhomh dhùsgadh dham dheòin.
Sèist
Thug iad a Thung a' bhradain 's a' mhurain thu,
Thug iad a-null a dh'fhuireach, a lurain, thu;
A-null air an fhadhail mo bhalachan bàn chaidh,
A-null air an fhadhail mo bhalachan bàn chaidh.
Gu dè ged a chinneadh mo bhàrr,
Lìonmhor ged dh'fhàsadh mo bhuar?
Cha lìon is cha bhlàthaich siud d' àit
Às d' eugmhais tha fàs falamh fuar.
Gur binne gu mòr leam do ghàir
Na 'n ceòl thig o chlàrsaich nan teud,
Na 'n uiseag air moch mhadainn Mhàigh,
Na chuthag 's gug-gug aic' air gheug.
Chaoidh do cholainn na agradh an Stàit
Gu bhith leatha 's na blàiribh ri spòrs,
Mar nach biodh annad, a ghràidh,
Ach tàileasg len cluichear air bòrd.
O sguiribh, luchd eanchainnean geur'
Dheilbh lèir-sgrios a dh'oidhche 's a lò;
Ur n-eagnaidheachd cuiribh gu feum
Is fàgaibh mo bhalachan-sa beò.
Translation
What if the sun didn't rise,
What if the birds didn't call?
Music of the fiddle or bagpipe can I play.
To raise my mood today
Chrous
They took you to Tong of the Salmon and marram you
They took you there to live, dear one,
Across the ford my blonde haired boy went
Across the ford my blonde haired boy went
What if my crops did grow,
And my cattle were plenty,
That wont warm the place
That without you grows cold and empty
How sweet to me your smile is,
Than the strings of the clàrsach
Than the thrush on the May morning
Or the Cuckoo cuckooing on the branch
I worry you and the control of the state,
That you’ll be in battle as their sport,
As if you weren’t my dear
But a chesspiece (pawn) in the hand of the player at the board.
O you 'sharp' minded brains
Designing devastation each night and day
Put your wisdom to proper use
And leave my balachan alive
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4. |
Mo Nigheann Donn
03:59
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Gur e mise tha fo ghruaim
'S mi 'n taobh tuath dhan an Stòr.
Sèist | Chorus
Mo nigh'n donn hò gu
Hì rì rì hù lò
Mo nigh'n donn hò gu.
'N-dràst' an loch fada choill
'S nach tig Oighrig nam chòir.
Thog iad a' mhailisi suas
'S bheir siud bhuainn gillean òg.
Cha bhi iad a-muigh ach mìos
'S cha bhi 'n cianalas oirnn.
Mo nighean donn choisinn cliù
Ann an cùirt nam ban òg.
Tha mi sgìth cur mo lìon
Ann an iochdar gach òb.
Thèid mi null air a' bheinn
Far eil loinn nam ban òg.
'S bidh mo làmh na do làimh
Dh'aindeoin èildeir tha beò.
'S bhiodh mo làmh mud chùl bhàn
Gad a gheàrrt' i mun dòrn.
Ach ma ruigeas mise null
Gheibh thu crùin na do dhòrn.
Gheibh thu sin is rud nas fheàrr
Maraiche math làidir òg.
Translation
Oh how my mind is heavy
as I'm north west of the Storr.
Chorus
My brown haired girl ho gu
Hì rì rì hù lò
My brown haired girl ho gu
Right now I'm in the loch by the forest
And Oighrig (Effie) will not be joning me.
The militia has been risen
And that will take away the young lads from us.
They will be out for a month
This will not leave us full of sadness.
My brown haired girl who gained recognition
At the fair of the young women.
I'm tired of setting my nets
In the lower parts of each cove.
I will head over the hill
Where there is the beautiful young women.
And we will walk hand in hand
Regardless of any living elders.
And my hand will be around you
Though I'd prefer to embrace you.
And if I manage to reach over to you
You'll get a crown in your hand.
You'll get that and something better
A good, young, strong sailor.
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5. |
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6. |
An Iarran Mònach
04:08
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Tha ‘n iarran mònach air a spar,
An dùil an thig e nuas gu bràth,
A ghearradh mòine dhomh air blàr,
A-measg an fhraoich sna tomanan.
Bha mi ‘n-dè sa sguab nam làmh,
‘S mi toirt sgriob air glanadh làir,
An uair a thug mi sùil an àrd,
Sann thòisich e ri bruidhinn rium.
Ghluais mi null is shuidh mi sios,
‘S mi ‘n dùil gu robh mi as mo chiall,
Oir cò an duine chual a-riamh,
An Iarran mònach bruidhinn ris.
Thuirt e tha sinn mìos na Màigh,
An àm a b’ abhaist dhomh bhith 'n sàs,
A gearradh mòine dhut air blàr,
A chumadh blàths gu h-Earrach thu.
A bheil thu ‘g ràdh g’ eil thu ro aosd,
Chan eil sin ach còmhradh faoin,
Tha mise ‘s tusa an co-aois,
‘S a-riamh cha d’ fhiult mi gearradh dhut.
Na smaoinich thusa dhuine truagh
Mar tha pris a' ghual dol suas
Mus pàigh thu 'n ola chuain a’ tuath
Nach truagh a bhios do sporran-sa.
Nuair a thig an Geamhradh reoitht,
Bidh thusa dùinte na do chòt'
Boinneag sileadh as do shròin,
As d’ fhiacalan mòr ri snagadaich.
Dh’ fhalbh mi sin is sheas mi an àrd,
Is dh’innse mi dhàsan mar a bha
Tha ‘n t-siataig air a thighinn nam làimh
‘S bhiodh tilgeil fàdan duilich dhomh.
Tha d’ obairs' seachad gu math luath,
Cha dean thu rùdhain a chuir suas,
Na ‘s motha na sin cha dean thu cruach
‘S e ‘n obair cruaidh a th’ agamsa.
Tha mi nise na mo dhùisg,
O cha robh sin ach aisling faoin,
Ach chuir e m’ inntinn sa gu smaoin
‘M bu choir dhomh buain an ath-bhliadhna.
Translation
The peat iron is hanging on the beam,
I wonder will it ever come down again,
To cut peats for me on the flat moor
Amongst the heather and the hillocks.
There I was yesterday with the broom in my hand,
As I swept the floor,
When I happened to look up
He started talking to me.
I moved aside and sat down,
Thinking that I had lost my sense,
Because who had ever heard of such a thing,
A peat iron talking to them.
He said we're in the month of May,
The time when we used to be busy,
Cutting peat for you on the moor
That would keep you warm until Spring.
Are you trying to say that you are too old,
That is nothing but foolish talk,
You and I are of the same age,
And I've never refused to cut for you.
Now thing of this you poor man,
As the price of coal continues to rise,
By the time you'd pay for the North Sea oil,
There will be nothing left in your wallet.
When the freezing winter arrives,
You'll be there wearing your coat,
Drops running from your nose,
And your big teeth chattering.
It was then I stood up,
And told him how it really was,
The arthritis has come to my hands
And throwing peats would be hard for me.
Your work is over very quickly,
You couldn't gather the peats for me,
And furthermore you can't make a peatstack
It is I who has the hard work to do
Oh it is now that I am awake,
That was nothing but a silly dream,
But it has made me think....
Should I cut peats next year.
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7. |
Fil o ro
04:56
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Fil o ro, fil o ro, fil o ro hug eile,
Fil o ro, fil o ro, fil o ro hug eile,
Air fa le li o agus ho ro hug eile,
Chan fhaigh mi cadal sàmhach
A ghràidh, 's gun thu rèidh rium
Is truagh nach robh mis' agus tusa far an iarrainn,
Sia latha na seachdain, is seachd, ochd bliadhna,
Nn seòmraichean glaiste le clàidheamhan iarainn,
Na h-iuchraichean air chall agus dall bhith gan iarraidh.
Bu bhinne leam do chòmhradh na smeòrach nan geugan,
Na cuthag sa mhadainn Mhàighe no clàrsach nan teudan,
Nan t-easbaig air latha Dòmhnaich, 's am mòr-shluagh ga èisteachd,
No ged a chunntadh stòras na h-Eòrpa gu lèir dhomh.
Is truagh nach robh mi fàgail an t-saoghail seo ro-chianail:
Bha dòchas faoin gam thàladh, 's e 'n gaol rinn mo dhìobhail,
Ged fada bhuam a shiùbhladh tu rim bheò bhithinn riut dìleas,
'S nuair thigeadh Latha na Cruinne 's e Mòr Ròs a dh'iarrainn.
Translation
Fil o ro, fil o ro, fil o ro hug eile
Fil o ro, fil o ro, fil o ro hug eile
Air fa le li o agus ho ro hug eile
I will not sleep soundly
My love, if we can not be reconciled
Is truagh nach robh mis' agus tusa far an iarrainn,
Sia latha na seachdain, is seachd, ochd bliadhna,
Nn seòmraichean glaiste le clàidheamhan iarainn,
Na h-iuchraichean air chall agus dall bhith gan iarraidh.
Your voice is sweeter to me. than the thrush of the branches
Or the cuckoo on a May morning, or the strings of a harp
Or the bishop on a Sunday and the crowd gathered to listen to him
Or if I counted all the riches of Europe as my own
Oh if only I was able to leave this cruel world
Foolish hope deceived me and it was love that has ruined me
However far you may travel from me, all my life I would be faithful to you
And when the Day of Reckoning would come, it would be Marion Ross I would want
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8. |
Òran an Fheòir
03:47
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‘S ann ort a bha coltas le t-fhallus mu d’ ghnuis,
Ri gearradh a ghlais fheur, le speal nach robh ùr,
Cha ghleidheadh I an gliasadh, ach beagan de dh’ uin,
Bha am faobhar air caitheamh cho fada gu chùl.
Am feur rinn thu spealladh air leig Ann’ ‘ic Caoidh
A thiormaich thu criona, air glasach an uillt
Air a thorradh na thudain bha cumhad cho grinn,
Chuir na balaich le ‘n cuidthrom, a chruth bun os cionn
Chaidh an t-uisge steach troimhe, bho mhullch gu mhàs,
Air fàs teth na mheadhon. agus malcaidh air fàs,
Faileadh dongaidh dheth tighinn a mach as a bharr,
Is b’ fheudar a sgapadh, le forc agus graip.
Is ann shios air an talamh, aig fasgadh an uillt,
Bha an goca den ghlais fheur a sgioblaich thu cruinn
Chaidh a mhilleadh le balaich, bha goid air an oidhch’
Chan itheadh an t-Each e, an gabhuinn na ‘n laogh
Thog thu ‘n goca na eallach, le taod air do dhruim,
Is shlaod thu e dhachaidh, bho ghlasadh an uillt,
Ged rinn thu e chrathadh, sa sgaoileadh ri gaoith,
Sa thionndeadh le forca cha thiormaich e chaoidh
Bha thusa den bheachd, nach fhaigheadh balaich co-dhìu
A-steach air a challaid, chuir thu timcheall an uillt,
Ach fiach nach e Seoni, tha shios aig a’ bhùth,
Is Alasdair an phortair, a chreach thu sa spùin.
Tha iadsan cho abhcaideach seòlta agus ciunn,
Le ‘n dibhearsain gun mhill iad, an goc ort co-dhiù,
Ged a dhèanadh tu a sgolladh, sa ghlanadh san allt
Bithidh faileadh is boladh, ga leantainn a chaoidh
‘S e bu choir dhuit a dhèanamh dheth siaman feòir
Sa thoinneamh mum amhaich san tachdadh ‘s iad beò
Toirt orrasan ithe, gach sop agus dlo,
Den fheur chaidh a mhilleadh, ‘s nach itheadh a bhò.
Do mhallachd gan leantainn, am fad bhios iad beò
Son a chall a chaidh ortsa aig milleadh an fheòir,
Ach dean thus an ath bhliadhna, callaid bhios mòr,
Le cord iarrainn gathach ‘s cha tig iad na choir.
Translation
You looked quite the picture with the sweat on your brow,
As you cut the grass, with the old scythe
I would only stay sharp, but for a short time
The edge of the blade had worn away to it's back
The grass that you cut, with Anne Mackay's permission
That your dried so well in the field by the stream
Gathered into a stack it looked so fine,
But the boys used their weight to turn is upside down
The rain went through it from top to bottom,
Growing warm in the middle and beginning to rot,
The moist smell rising from it
And you had to scatter it with the fork.
It was on the ground by the shelter of the stream,
That the haystack of grass was that you kept so tidy,
It was ruined by the boys in the dark of the night
The horse, the heifer or the calf would eat it.
You lifted the burdensome load, tied to your back,
And you dragged it back from the stream
Though you shook it and scattered it in the wind
And turned it with the fork, it will never dry.
You thought yourself, that the boys wouldn't get near it,
Through the fence you put round the stream,
But make sure it wasn't Shonnie, who's down at the shop,
And Alasdair the porter, who raided and stole from you.
They are so humorous, cunning and sly,
That with their ploy they would ruin your haystack in any case
Though you would wash it and rinse it in the stream
The smell and the stench would forever remain.
What you should do with it is make a long grass rope
And wrap it round their necks and choke them alive
Make them eat it, each blade and handful,
Of the grass that was ruined, that the cow wouldn't eat.
You will have to watch them closely from now
After all you lost when the grass was ruined,
But next year, you make a big strong fence,
With plenty barbed wire, and they'll not come near it.
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9. |
Nam Faighte Long Dhomh
05:01
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Na faighte long dhomh gun cuirinn a-null thu
Far bheil do mhuintirr an Eilean Leòdhais
Is chuirinn fhèin ann an Cladh na h-Aoidh thu,
Mus caidlinn oidhch’ far an robh mi eòlach
Is thus air bòrd innt bu luath a sheòlainn
Is ruiginn Leòdhas gu sgiobalt’ gleusd
‘S chuirinn Canada a-mach à fàire
Na seasadh spàr air a sail na deidh
‘N ear san ear-thuath is mi ga stiùireadh
‘S e sin an cùrsa gu Rònaidh tuath
Dheidh car na cuibhle gu ceann an Tiumpan
Gu Tigh a’ Bhìbear ri roinn na Stòr
Ri dol mu Shiadair gur mi bhiodh cianail,
Ged tha seachd bliadhna bhon dh’ fhàg mi e
‘S mi faicinn saothar do chuirp ‘s do làmhan
Gun cheò no blàths’ ann nad fhàrdach fhèin
Ged bhithinn tùrsach gun cumainn suas i
Cha rachainn tuath ri Sguir Iomhair leth
Ach stiùirinn fhèin i air cùrsa dhìreach
Is gabhainn air tir leatha aig Ceann a’ Bhràigh
Thigeadh do chàirdean thoirt urram bàis dhut,
‘S iad gad ghiulan gu teach na cnamh
‘S nach biodh m’ athairsa dhomhsa sealltainn
An àit’ bu mhiann leat aig àm do bhàis
Chuirinn sìos thu sa chadal iarrain
Far na dh’ fhàg thu d’ fhiacaill, ‘s do bhean ‘s do phàisd
An àit bu mhiann leat nuair dheidh an ùir ort
Ri taobh na triùir ud gu bhith nad thàmh
Ach tha mi ‘n dòchas gu bheil thu sàbhailt
‘S gun coinnich mi fhìn riut ‘s ri mo bhràthair
Far an tèid na h-oidhean a-steach le aoibhneas
‘S cha sguir an t-seinn ann a dh’ oidhch no latha
Translation
If I could get a boat I would take you over
To where you people are in the Isle of Lewis
And I would take you to the Eye Cemetery
Before I would spend a night in the place I know so well
With you on board I'd sail swiftly
And I'd reach Lewis in good time
Putting Canada out of sight
Sitting high above the sea in our wake
North and North-West as I'm at the wheel
That's the course for North Rona
After that a turn in the wheel to Tiumpan
To the house of 'Bìbear' towards Stòrr
Going passed Shader my heart would be heavy
Even though there is seven years since I left
Seeing the work and efforts of your hands and body
Without smoke from the chimney or warmth in your home
Though I would be sad I would keep on my journey
I wouldn't stray to the North to Ivor's rock
I would keep her on a steady course
And come ashore at the head of the Braighe
Your family would come to pay their respects,
As they'd carry you to your final resting place
And my father would be there to show you
Where you would want to lie at the time of your passing
We'd lay you down in your eternal sleep
Where you left a tooth, your wife and your child
The place you would desire when time called upon you
To be beside those three at the time of your death.
It is my hope that you are safe
And that one I'll meet you and my brother
Where the maidens enter full of joy
And the singing would not stop, day or night.
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10. |
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11. |
Till Rium a Leannain
04:37
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Till rium a leannan o till o till
Till rium a leannan o till o till
Till rium a leannan dha d’ dh’ eoin no led eu-dheòin **
No thèid mi le cabhaig don chill don chilll.
‘S tha gruaidhean mo leannan mar lilidh nan gleann
Do mhil-laisean geala ‘s gur taitneach iad leam
‘S ged dhèanadh sinn cadal air cluasagan geala
Ged bhiodh sinn gun fhearann, gun fhonn gun fhonn
‘S truagh nach robh mise ‘s mo ghràdh ‘s mo ghràdh
Air m’ ullach na beinne gu h-àrd, gu h-àrd
Gun duine bhith faisg dhuinn ach leanabh gun astair
A bheireadh sgeul dhachaigh gu cach, gu cach.
‘S truagh nach robh mise ‘s mo ghaol ‘s mo ghaol
An lagan beag falaichte san fhraoch, san fhraoch
Gun càil a bhith eataroinn ach leine chaol anart
Gun dèanadh sinn cadal sinn taobh ri taobh
Ach, càite am beil comas dom luaidh, dom luaidh
Mar ròs air uchd-gheala tha gruaidh, tha gruaidh
Clar-aghaidh is sgìlean nam bainne ga bhleoghan
‘S a ghrian a’ dol fodha ‘s a chuan ‘s a chuan
**last chorus (A mhairi den cabhaig bho dhùthaich nan Gallaibh)
Translation
Return to me my love, o return o return
Return to me my love, o return o return
Return my love whether it be your will or not**
Or I will quickly be in my grave.
My loves cheeks are like the lily of the glen
Her fine features are so appealing to me
If only we could sleep on the white pillows
Even if we had no land of our own.
It's such a pity that my love and I
Weren't in the hills high above, high above
Without anyone been near us but a child at distance
That would bring home the story to the people, the people.
It's such a pity that my love and I
Weren't in the hidden hollow in the heather, the heather
With nothing between us but a fine cotton shirt
We'd sleep peacefully, side by side
But who can compare to my love, my love
Her cheeks are like a rose upon the swan
To picture her with her skills milking the cows
And on the horizon the sun disappearing into the sea, the sea
**last chorus (O Màiri, return from the foreign lands)
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Calum Alex MacMillan Scotland, UK
www.calumalexmacmillan.co.uk
Calum Alex Macmillan was born and brought up in the Isle of
Lewis, surrounded by traditional music and Gaelic song from a young age.
He has gone to become one of Scotland’s leading Gaelic singers. He is one of the youngest ever winners of the Mod Gold Medal, and is descended from a long line of distinguished bards and singers.
... more
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