Txoria Txori

Hegoak ebaki banizkio
nerea izango zen,
ez zuen aldegingo
Hegoak ebaki banizkio
nerea izango zen,
ez zuen aldegingo

Bainan, honela
ez zen gehiago txoria izango
Bainan, honela
ez zen gehiago txoria izango
eta nik… txoria nuen maite
eta nik… txoria nuen maite

English translation:

The bird is a bird

If I had cut its wings
It would have been mine
It would not have escaped

But then,
It would no longer be a bird.
And I… I loved what was a bird.

Lady Keith’s Lament

I may sit in my wee croo hoose,
wi’ my rock and my reel tae toil, fu’ dreary,
And I may think on the day that’s gane,
and will sigh and sab till I am weary,
I ne’er could brook, I ne’er could brook,
a foreign loon tae own or flatter,
But I will sing a rantin’ sang,
that day oor King comes o’er the water.

Oh I hae seen the guid auld day,
the day o’ pride and chieftain’s glory,
When Royal Stuart bare the sway,
and we ne’er heard tell o’ Whig or Tory,
Tho’ lyart be my locks and gray,
auld age has crook’t me doon, what matter,
I’ll dance and sing ae ither day,
that day oor King comes o’er the water.

Oh gin I live tae see the day,
that I hae begged and begged frae heaven,
I’ll fling my rock and reel away,
and I’ll dance and sing frae morn till even,
For there is ane I widnae name,
wha comes the beengin’ byke tae scatter,
And I will put on my bridal goon,
that day oor King comes o’er the water.

A curse on dull and drawlin’ Whig,
the whinin’ rantin’ low deceiver,
Wi’ heart sae black and look sae big,
and cantin’ tongue o’ clishmaclaver,
My faither was a guid Lord’s son,
my mither was and Earl’s daughter,
And I will be Lady Keith again,
that day oor King comes O’er the water.

English translation:

beengin’byke = growth of the Whig party
clishmaclaver = idle gossip

I may sit in my wee old house
At the spinning wheel to toil so dreary
I may think of a day that is gone
And sigh and some till I grow weary
I ne’er could brook I ne’er could brook
A foreign king to own or flatter
And I will sing a ranting song
The day our king comes o’er the water

I have seen the good old day
The day of pride and chieftain’s glory
When royal Stuart held the sway
And none heard tell of Whig or Tory
Though silver be my hair one day
And age has struck me down what matter
I’ll dance and sing the happy day
The day our king comes o’er the water

If I live to see the day
That i have begged and begged from Heaven
I’ll fling my rock and reel away
And dance and sing from morn till evening
For there is one I will not name
Who comes the beengin’byke to scatter
And I’ll put on my bridal gown
The day our king comes o’er the water

A curse on dull and drawling Whig
The whining ranting low deceiver
With heart so black and lies so big
The canting tongue of clishmclaver
My father was a good lord’s son
My mother was an earl’s daughter
And I’ll be Lady Keith again
The day our king comes o’er the water

Gloomy Winter’s Noo Awa

Gloomy winter’s noo awa, soft the westlin’ breezes blaw
Amang the birks o’ Stanley shaw, the mavis sings fu’ cheerie O
Sweet the crawflower’s early bell, decks Gleniffer’s dewy dell
Bloomin’ like your bonnie sel’, my ain my darlin’ dearie O

Come my lassie let us stray o’er Glenkilloch’s sunny brae
And blythely spend the gowden day ‘midst joys that never wearie O
O trees may bud and birds may sing, flowers may bloom and verdure spring
But joy to me they canna bring, unless wi’ ye my dearie O

Towerin’ o’er the Newton woods, lav’rocks fan the snow white clouds
And siller saughs wi’ downy buds, adorn the banks sae brierie O
Round the sylvan fairy nooks, feathery breckans fringe the rocks
And ‘neath the brae the burnie jouks, and ilka thing is cheerie O

Come my lassie let us stray o’er Glenkilloch’s sunny brae
And blythely spend the gowden day ‘midst joys that never wearie O
O trees may bud and birds may sing, flowers may bloom and verdure spring
But joy to me they canna bring, unless wi’ ye my dearie O

English translation:

Birks: birches
Brae: hillside
Breckan: bracken, wild fern
Shaw: small wood
Mavis: song-thrush
Crawflower: wild hyacinth or English bluebell
Lav’rocks: larks
Siller: silver
Saugh: willow

Chi Mi Na Mórbheanna – Mist covered mountains

Oh ro soon shall I see them
Oh he ro see them oh see them
Oh ro soon shall I see them the
Mist covered mountains of home

There shall I visit the place of my birth
And they’ll give me a welcome the warmest on earth
All so loving and kind full of music and mirth
In the sweet sounding language of home

O chì, chì mi na mórbheanna
O chì, chì mi na córrbheana
O chì, chì mi na coireachan
Chì mi na sgorran fo chèo

Chì mi ann coilltean, chì mi ann doireachan
Chì mi ann maghan bàna is toraiche
Chì mi na féidh air làr nan coireachan
Falaicht’ an trusgan de chèo

O chì, chì mi na mórbheanna
O chì, chì mi na córrbheana
O chì, chì mi na coireachan
Chì mi na sgorran fo chèo

Hail to the mountains with summits of blue
To the glens with their meadows of sunshine and dew
To the women and men ever constant and true
Ever ready to welcome one home

Oh ro soon shall I see them
Oh he ro see them oh see them
Oh ro soon shall I see them the
Mist covered mountains of home

English translation:

Oh I see, I see the great mountains
Oh I see, I see the lofty mountains
Oh I see, I see the corries
I see the peaks onder the mist

I see woods there, I see thickets
I see fair, fertile lands there
I see the deer on the ground of the corries
Shrouded in a garment of mist

Oh I see, I see the great mountains
Oh I see, I see the lofty mountains
Oh I see, I see the corries
I see the peaks onder the mist

Time wears awa’

Oh but the oors rin fast awa, like the Kelvin tae the Clyde
Sin on its bonnie gowan banks I wooed thee for my bride
My ain dear love, sae sweet and young, sae artless and sae fair
Then love was a’ the grief we kent, and you my only care

Time wears awa, time wears awa
An’ winna let us be
It stole the wild rose frae my cheek
An’ the blythe blink frae your ee

When woods were green and flooers fair, and you were a’ my ain
I little reckoned what years would bring o’ poortith, toil an pain
Some waefu’ oors hae flapped their wings, dark shadows ower oor lot
Sin like twa cushats o’ the glen, we strayed in this dear spot

The voices o’ these happy days steal on oor dreams by night
An cherished mem’ries rise and glow wi’ their departed light
But still the birds and burnies sing their ‘wildered melodies
As in the gowden dawn o’ life when we were young and free

A Maid That’s Deep in Love

I am a maid that’s deep in love
But yes I can complain
I have in this world but one true love
And Jimmy is his name
And if I do not find my love
I’ll mourn most constantly
And I’ll find and follow Jimmy thro’
The lands of liberty

Then I’ll cut off my yellow hair
Men’s clothing I’ll wear on
I’ll sign to a bold sea captain
My passage I’ll work free
And I’ll find and follow Jimmy thro’
The lands of liberty

One night upon the raging sea
As we were going to bed
The captain cried “Farewell my boy,
I wish you were a maid
Your rosy cheeks, your ruby lips
They are enticing me
And I wish dear God with all my heart
A maid you were to me”

“Then hold your tongue, dear captain
Such talk is all in vain
And if the sailors find it out
They’ll laugh and make much game
For when we reach Columbia shore
Some prettier girls you’ll gain

It was no three days after
Our ship it reached the shore
“Adieu my loving captain
Adieu for evermore
For once I was a sailor on sea
But now I am a maid on shore
So adieu to you and all your crew
With you I’ll sail no more”

“Come back, come back, my own pretty maid
Come back and marry me
I have ten thousand pounds in gold
And that I’ll give to thee
So come back, come back, my own pretty maid
Come back and marry me”

Seallaibh Curaigh Eòghainn

O, seallaibh curaigh Eòghainn,
Is còig ràimh fhichead oirre.
Seallaibh curaigh Eòghainn
‘S i seachad air a’ Rubha Bhàn.

Bidh Eòghainn, Bidh Eòghainn,
Bidh Eòghainn na sgiobair oirr’,
Bidh Eòghainn, Bidh Eòghainn,
‘S i seachad air a’ Rubha Bhàn.

English translation:

Oh, look at Ewan’s coracle
With twenty-five oars on her.
Look at Ewan’s coracle
And she is passing the White Point.

Ewan will be, Ewan will be
Ewan will be the captain on her,
Ewan will be, Ewan will be,
And she is passing the White Point.

Hùg Air a’ Bhonaid Mhòir

Hùg air a’ bhonaid mhòir
Cuiribh oirre ’s leigibh leatha
Tuilleadh air a’ bhonaid eile
Chan eil leth gu leòr oirre

Bhonaid a bh’ aig Dòmhnall Bàn
Ann an Bothalam na tàmh
Bha i uiread ris an spàrr
B’ àird’ i na lòban

Da thàbh air an fharaidh
Tha rud shìos anns a charaidh
Da thàbh air an fharaidh
Tha rud aig an fhaoileig

Ged tha mi gun rud agam
Tha rud shìos anns a’ charaidh
Ged tha mi gun rud agam
Tha rud aig an fhaoileig

English translation:

Celebrate the great bonnet
Add to it, leave it alone
More on the other bonnet
There’s not half enough on it

Donald Ban’s bonnet
Is to be found in Bothalam
It was as high as the roof joist
Higher than the corn-stack frame

Two spoon-nets in the loft
There’s something in the fish-trap
Two spoon-nets in the loft
The seagull has a catch

Although I’m empty-handed
There’s something in the fish-trap
Although I’m empty-handed
The seagull has a catch

Bràighe Loch Iall

O thèid is gun tèid
O thèid mi thairis
Gu innis nam bò
Far an ceòlmhòr ainnir

Ill ò bha hò
S’na hao ri ri rì o hi
Hoireann o gù o hill ò bha hò

Is earbag nan stùc
Tha lùghmhor eangar
Gu Bràighe Loch Iall
Far am bith fiadh s’an langan

Ill ò bha hò…

A bhean an fhuilt rèidh
Guidheam fhèin dhut mo bheannachd
Mo beannachd ad dhèidh
Ged is fheudar bhith dealaicht

Ill ò bha hò…

O thèid is gun tèid
O thèid mi dhachaidh
Gu Bràighe Loch Iall
Far am bith fiadh s’an langan

Ill ò bha hò…

English translation:

Oh I’ll go, I’ll surely go
Oh I will go over
To the cattle grazings
Where the young women are tuneful

Ill ò bha hò…

And the little roe of the peaks
So nimble and lightfooted
To the Braes of Locheil
Where the bellowing stags are

Ill ò bha hò…

Girl with the glossy hair
I give you my blessing
My blessing go with you
Though we had to part

Ill ò bha hò…

Oh I’ll go, I’ll surely go
Oh I will go home
To the Braes of Locheil
Where the bellowing stags are

Ill ò bha hò…

Calum Sgaire

Och a Rìgh gur trom m’ osna
‘S fhada ò mo luaidh anochd mi
Mise tuath air Ceann Lochlainn
‘S ise aig Loch an Fhir Mhaoil

Air fail a ra u
Fail eile ’s a ra u
Fail eile ’s a ra u
Hogaidh o ’s na ho i

Ged is math a bhith seòladh
‘S olc a tha i ‘gam chòrdadh
‘S mòr gum b’ fheàrr a bhith ‘m Bòsta
Cur an eòrna ‘san raon

Air fail a ra u…

Ach nam bithinn-sa aig baile
A shamhradh ’s a dh’ earrach
‘S mi nach leigeadh mo leannan
Ri balach gun strìth

Air fail a ra u…

English translation:

Oh Lord, I’ve a heavy, sighing heart
My love is far away from me tonight
I’m away in the north at the Cape of Norway
While she’s at Loch an Fhir Mhaoil

Air fail a ra u…

Though it is enjoyable to be sailing
I cannot say I’m enjoying it just now
I would rather be in Bosta
Planting the corn in the field

Air fail a ra u…

If only I could be at home
Both summer and spring
I would never allow another man
To have my love without a fight

Air fail a ra u…