Tha buaidh air an uisge bheatha,
Tha buaidh air 's cha ghabh e cleith;
Tha buaidh air an uisge bheatha,
Dh'òlainn tè is fuar i.
An cuala sibh 's an àite so,
Mu'n Ford a fhuair an Lamanach;
Gu fan i far am fàgar i,
Mur tàirnear i cha ghluais i.
'S e sud an car tha cunnartach,
Ma thàras i air buill' thoirt dhuit;
An làrach far an cuir i thu,
Gu fuirich thu 'nad shuain ann.
Ma ghluaiseas e do do'n bhaile rith,
A steach Black Brook gu'n caillir i,
Cha dèan i cnoc Iain Shalaich dheth
'S cha toir a h-anail suas i.
'S gu'n d'thuirt Dòmhnall Angus ris
An déidh dha chuis a rannsachadh,
Tha 'n uidheam stiùiridh cam oirre,
Mu'n dèan i call, cuir uait i.
Nis crìochnaichidh mi'n dan so dhuibh
An dùil gu'n dèan sibh fabhar leam:
Na inssibh e do'n Lamanach,
Mur fàs e ann an gruaim rium.
Tha mi fo chùram a dhiu ro eileadh
Tha mi fo chùram 's fo mhoran tursa.
'S mo cheist air cùirteir a' bhrollaich ghlè-ghil.
Tha mi fo chùram a dhiu ro eileadh.
Tha mi fo ghruaimean
'S gur fhad o'n uair sin
Mo ghaol a' bhuachaill
'S cha chual e fhèin e.
Ma gheibh mi airgiod
A bheir air falbh mi,
Gu lean mi Tormod
'S cha dealaichinn fhèin ris.
Mo cheist an cìobair
Tha'n cois na frìthe
'S mo chridhe 'g innse
Nach dean e feum dhomh.
Nach mi bha gòrach
An duil ri pòsadh
Gun stoc gun stòras
Gun or gun Bheurla.
Fhuair mi litir a Dùn Eideann 'g ràdh
Nach feud mi dhol do 'n mhonadh.
'S tric a mharbh mi fiadh ard bheann
Air na glinn a b'àille culaidh.
Fàgaidh mi a nis an tir seo, chan fhaigh
M'inntinn sìth innt' tuilleadh.
Bheir mi ruaig gu còrs' nan Innsean
Feuch an dean mi fhìn am buinnig.
Gaidhlig
Downcast am I
And long since about my love
Of the shepherd
And he not knowing of it.
If I come into money
Which will enable me to get away
I shall follow Norman
And never part with him.
My love is the shepherd
Close to the deer-forest
And my heart telling me that
It will little avail me.
How silly I was
To think of marriage
Without stock or possessions
Without gold or English.
I received a letter from Edinburgh
Saying I must not go to the moorland.
Often I killed the deer in the high mountains,
In the glens with thickest cover.
I'll be leaving this country now;
I can no longer find peace here.
I'll be leaving for the Indies
To try to make myself a fortune.
"Behold the Sídh before your eyes,
So clearly a royal mansion,
Which was built by the firm Dagda,
Wonder, court, admirable hill."
MacNia, Book of Ballymote.
" Adieu, sweet Angus, Maeve and Fand,
Ye plumed yet skinny shee,
That poets played with hand in hand
To learn their ecstasy."
J.M. Synge: The Passing of the Shee.
"I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name.
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
W.B. Yeats. The Song of Wandering Aengus.
Gruel Cauldron
Irish Famine 1845-1848
Passing of the Gael
Skibbereen
Victory in the Time of Famine
"Oh father dear, I oft-times hear you speak of Erin's isle
Her lofty hills, her valleys green, her mountains rude and wild
They say she is a lovely land wherein a saint might dwell
So why did you abandon her, the reason to me tell."
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