O, ’s ann tha na diùlnaich thall
Air an taobh ud dhen a’ Bheinn:
Fhuair iad fearann ann gun taing
Bhon an aingidh rinn am mealladh.
Fhad ’s a bhios an linn seo beò
Bidh cuimhn’ air cainnteanas Lloyd George:
Gheall e fearann do na seòid,
Ach na thill beò dhiubh, ’s mòr an gearain.
Nuair a thuig na gillean còir
Gu robh an Government fo sgleò
’S nach robh cainnteanas Lloyd George
Ach mar cheò a’ falbh à sealladh,
Chruinnich iad is fhuair iad pìob,
’S am port a chluich iad Morair Sìm,
’S cha robh fear a bha san sgìr’
Nach robh cruinn aig roinn an fhearainn.
Thàinig Raghnall le mòr‑uaill,
Le each ’s le ghunna dol mun cuairt:
’S gann a bhruidhneadh e le gruaim –
Thug e ’n dualchas ud bho sheanair.
An Dotair Moireach, suas a chliù,
Faic mar thagair e sa chùis:
Thug e mach iad às an tùr
Gu an saors’ a dheòin ’s a dh’aindeoin.
Sguiridh mise nis dhem dhàn:
’S e mo dhùrachd sibh bhith slàn,
Le bhur sabhail mhòra làn
Leis a’ ghràn gu àird nan sparran.
Air an taobh ud dhen a’ Bheinn:
Fhuair iad fearann ann gun taing
Bhon an aingidh rinn am mealladh.
Fhad ’s a bhios an linn seo beò
Bidh cuimhn’ air cainnteanas Lloyd George:
Gheall e fearann do na seòid,
Ach na thill beò dhiubh, ’s mòr an gearain.
Nuair a thuig na gillean còir
Gu robh an Government fo sgleò
’S nach robh cainnteanas Lloyd George
Ach mar cheò a’ falbh à sealladh,
Chruinnich iad is fhuair iad pìob,
’S am port a chluich iad Morair Sìm,
’S cha robh fear a bha san sgìr’
Nach robh cruinn aig roinn an fhearainn.
Thàinig Raghnall le mòr‑uaill,
Le each ’s le ghunna dol mun cuairt:
’S gann a bhruidhneadh e le gruaim –
Thug e ’n dualchas ud bho sheanair.
An Dotair Moireach, suas a chliù,
Faic mar thagair e sa chùis:
Thug e mach iad às an tùr
Gu an saors’ a dheòin ’s a dh’aindeoin.
Sguiridh mise nis dhem dhàn:
’S e mo dhùrachd sibh bhith slàn,
Le bhur sabhail mhòra làn
Leis a’ ghràn gu àird nan sparran.
envoyé par DoNQuijote82 - 7/3/2015 - 12:07
Langue: anglais
Traduzione inglese dal sito ufficiale
O, what heroes there are
O, what heroes there are
on that side of a’ Bheinn.
No thanks to the wicked one who deceived them,
they got land there.
While this generation is alive
Lloyd George’s speech will be remembered.
He promised land to the heroes
but those who returned alive have much to complain about.
When the good lads realised
that the government was suspect
and that Lloyd George’s words
were like mist disappearing out of sight,
they gathered together and found a set of bagpipes.
The tune they played was Morair Sim
and there wasn’t a man in the district
who wasn’t present at the division of the land.
Arrogantly Raghnall, armed with a gun,
appeared on horseback.
So sullen was he, he could hardly speak –
a trait inherited from his grandfather.
Salute Dr Murray
who prosecuted the matter.
Despite everything,
he managed to get them released from jail.
I’ll now stop my song.
My earnest hope is that you will all be well,
with your great barns full
to the rafters with grain.
O, what heroes there are
on that side of a’ Bheinn.
No thanks to the wicked one who deceived them,
they got land there.
While this generation is alive
Lloyd George’s speech will be remembered.
He promised land to the heroes
but those who returned alive have much to complain about.
When the good lads realised
that the government was suspect
and that Lloyd George’s words
were like mist disappearing out of sight,
they gathered together and found a set of bagpipes.
The tune they played was Morair Sim
and there wasn’t a man in the district
who wasn’t present at the division of the land.
Arrogantly Raghnall, armed with a gun,
appeared on horseback.
So sullen was he, he could hardly speak –
a trait inherited from his grandfather.
Salute Dr Murray
who prosecuted the matter.
Despite everything,
he managed to get them released from jail.
I’ll now stop my song.
My earnest hope is that you will all be well,
with your great barns full
to the rafters with grain.
envoyé par dq82 - 7/3/2015 - 12:09
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Songs from Cuilidh
A great song composed by Finlay Morrison about the men who were promised land in “A Land Fit for Heroes” if they went to fight in WW1. Those who returned got nothing, and so this group of men gathered together and raided the land they had been promised. I was fortunate to learn this song from the son of one of the Raiders, Alick MacAulay, in his house on the croft his father secured after disagreements with the landlord and a jail sentence. Eamon doubles up here on bouzouki and fiddle.