Capercaillie

Roses and Tears

  1. him bo
  2. turas an anraidh
  3. donít you go
  4. the aphrodisiac
  5. barra clapping song
  6. seinneam cliu nam fear ur
  7. oran sugraidh
  8. the quimper waltz
  9. soldier boy
  10. aí racan a bhí againne
  11. rose cottage reels
  12. leadhasach an tir chein

him bo

Hi’m bo hug-i o, tha mi ann am eiginn
Hi’m bo hug-i o, tha mi ann am eiginn
Hi’m bo hug-i o, tha mi ann am eiginn
Chan fhaigh mi mach Di-Domhnaich ‘s mo bhrogan a’ treigsinn.

Gur mise tha gu cianail a’ bhliadhna as t-samhradh’s’
‘S mi ‘g obair air en fleur ‘s mi a’ sior dhol dall air,
Na machairean a’ ciaradh ‘s mi a’ feuchainn mo chainnt ris,
Tha an t-am agam a’ siol, tha mi a’ ciallachadh ro lýimh e.

Gu de nist na cnamhan ‘ iad a’ craitsinn an comhnaidh,
Nuair thig thu mach sa bhýta nuair chailleas do sheol oirre,
Tha mise ‘n seo air m’ fhagail ‘s cach bhith a’ sgornadh,
Mar a thuirt mo nýbaidh gum b’ fheýrr bhith nam Únar.

Seall ‘s gun rinn mo nabaidh, ‘s chan fhearrd’ e ri bheo e,
Bhon a chuir e Mairi gu cnýmhan dhan mhonaidh,
Ach thill I ann an trath ‘s thuirt: ‘S fheýrr dhut bhith stolda
Agus fuireach mar a tha sibh gu brath gun do phÚsadh.

Tha a-nis mo liadhan a’ lion mar a tha e
A chuideachadh an fheur ‘s e a’ feauchainn ga charadh,
Chan eil ann ach diolas de sgeulachd a thachair
Cha dean e shomh ach iasad gu rian chur air da-chlis.

O ‘n cuala sibh g’eil Mairi a’ fas nam aghaidh-sa?
Cha fhuiling I mo chaineadh an drast’ ann an tuasaid
Nuair thig astaigh dhan ait’ thig failt’ air a gruaim
‘S ann their i dhomh gu laidir, ìMar a tha sibh on uairsin?

him bo (translation)

Turas an anraidh

Turas an anraidh, turas an anraidh
Turas an anraidh, fath mo dhunaidh dhomh
Turas an anraidh, eadar mo bhathadh
Eadar Rubh’ Bhan is Cathair a’ Bhruernis.

Nuair theann mi a dh’ fhalbh bha ‘n oidhche cho garbh
Oir tha iad cho doirbh a’ falbh gu cruinneachadh
Charadh e ‘n dig, chuireadh e ‘chinnt ort
Mairi: ìO Thi, cha till e tuilleadh dhuinn!î

O turas gun bhuaidh dhomh, ‘sliopadh’ fear chruaidh,
‘S bha ‘n reothadh cho cruaidh ‘s gun bhuail mo shlinnean ris
Their Mairi droch sgeul: ìAch ochoin, mo chiall
Ma bhris thu do bheul am mias a chunna’ tu.î

Fhuairigeadh innlean a thalamh le dig e
Clo a’ sgriobadh binnean buidhe dhuibh
Nuair thuirt mi ri Niall nuair thuit mi mo chideall
Cha chumadh e feur rium sios na mullaichean.

Nuair chaidh mi dhan ait’ fhuair mi de shlaint’ ann
‘S ann dh’fhaighneachd mi (a) Mhairi ca’ do shiubhail mi
‘S ann leig i le gair: ìChaluim, a ghraidh
Cha tig thu ron bhas gum fag thu ‘n Uibhist mi.î

Don’t You Go

Don’t You Go

The army and the navy.
They never will agree
Til all the men and all the boys
Are gone from my country.

Don’t you go
Don’t you go my son
Don’t you go
Don’t you go my son.

The proud and the powerful
In whose hands we lie
Never will be pleasured
Til all our women cry.

Don’t you go
Don’t you go
Ah, don’t you go
Don’t you go my son.

The mastery, the misery
Called the art of war
Must never try and form a peace
As it has done before.

Don’t you go
Don’t you go my son
Don’t you go
Don’t you go my son.

The army and the navy
They never will agree
‘Til all the men and all the boys
Are gone from this country.

Ah, don’t you go
Don’t you go my son
Don’t you go
Don’t you go.

Don’t you go
Don’t you go
Don’t you go
Don’t you go my son.

The Aphrodisiac (instr)

The Aphrodisiac (instr)

Mo ghun ur sÏoda

Mo ghun ur sÏoda, mo ghun grinn Calico
Mo ghun ˜r sÏoda, mo ghun grinn Caligo
Mo ghun ur sÏoda, mo ghun grinn Caligo
Gun rachainn as a’ ruidhle le’m ghun grinn Caligo.

O sheinn i le fidhleir, o dhanns i gu h-aighearach
O sheinn i le fidhleir, o dhanns i gu h-aighearach
O sheinn i le fidhleir, o dhanns i gu h-aighearach
Gun rachainn as a’ ruidhle le’m gh˜n grin Caligo

O tha i laghach, siobhalt’, tha i grinn, banalta,
O tha i laghach, siobhalt’, tha i grinn, banalta,
O tha i laghach, siobhalt’, tha i grinn, banalta,
Gur snog i as a’ ruidhle le g˜n grinn Caligo.

Barra Clapping Song

seinneam cliu nam fear ur

Seinneam cliu nam fear ur
Gillean glun-gheal nam breacan
Feileadh beag os cionn nan glun
Eideadh sunndach nan gaisgeach.

Seinneam cliu na dh’fhag Port-righ
Fo’n cuid pÏoban is bhreacan
Leam bu mhiann a bhi nan cul
Miann mo shuil bhi gam faicinn

Seinneam cliu na dh’ fhalbh a Sleibht’
Gillean treun nach robh meata
Chaidh a dhion an crun ‘s an tÏr
Bho’n a mhÏltear gun cheartas.

‘S bi an cliu ‘ga sheinn gu brýth
Fhad’s bhios tonn air trýigh no cladach
Fhad’s bhios grian an aird na speur
Mairidh spÈis do na gaisgich.

I Sing The Praises of the New Men

I sing the praises of the new men
White-kneed lads of the tartan
Their kilts above the knee
Hearty uniform of the heroes

I sing the praises of those that left Portree
With their bagpipes and tartan
I would like to be behind them
Joy of my eyes to see them

I sing the praises of those that left Sleat
Brave lads who were not timid
Who went to defend Crown and country
From the destructor without justice

Their fame will be sung forever
As long as the waves strike a beach or shore
As long as the sun is high in the heavens
There will be respect for the heroes

oran sugraidh

‘S i nighean mo ghaoil,
An nighean donn og;
Nam biodh tu ri m’ thaobh,
Cha bhithinn fo bhron;
‘S i nighean mo ghaoil
An nighean donn Úg.

‘S i Mairi Nic Neachdain
As daicheile pearsa;
Ghabh mis’ uiread bheachd ort
Ri neach a tha beo.
‘S i nighean mo ghaoil

‘N uair sheallas mi t’ aodann
‘S mi ‘n coinneamh ri t’ fhaotainn,
Gur math leam nam faodainn
Bhith daonnan ad chÚir.

Cha leig mi thu ‘nfhireach
Thoirt a’ chruidh as an innis,
Air eagal na gillean
Bhith sireadh do phog.

Bheir mis’ thu Dhun Eideann
A dh’ ionnsachadh Beurla,
‘S chan fhag mi thu ‘d eigin
Ri spreidh an fhir mhÛir.

‘S e mheudaich mo ghaol ort
Gun d’ fhas thu cho aobhach,
‘S gun leumadh tu daonnan
Cho aotrom ‘s na h-eÚin.

A Song of Dalliance

The girl of my love
is the brown-haired young lass;
were you by my side
I would not be sad;
the girl of my love
is the brown-haired young lass.

‘Tis Mary MacNaughton
has the handsomest presence;
I appraised you as highly
as any alive.
The girl of my love,

As I gaze on your face,
and look forward to winning you,
I’d be glad if I might be
near you at all times.

I’ll not let you go to the hill
to bring the cows from the pasture,
for fear that the lads
will be seeking your kisses.

I’ll take you to Edinburgh
to learn English speech,
and not leave you drudging,
tending the great man’s kine.

This increased my love for you,
that you grew up so joyous,
and ever would spring up
as light as the birds

the quimper waltz (instr)

the quimper waltz (instr)

soldier boy

soldier boy

Marching once again
under a myriad of stars
Young men to the cause where
all is fair in love and war
But rules are rules
no mercy can be shown
in the fields of the departed
where history is born

In all the words you wrote of the
War and its ways
the words that speak the loudest
are the ones you never said
From Arras to the Somme
and the hell of Passchendaele
Ninety years and counting since
you told your bloody tale

Hey soldier boy is your conscience clear?
Is your mind on the road from hell and back
to the one you love so dear?
I know you live in constant fear
That’s just the way the world seems
through roses and tears

And when the battle cries no more
And the martyrs work is done
Did the voices in your head tell you
‘walk along the pathway of the
righteous and good’
and leave it all behind
in the fields of the departed
with the remnants of your mind

So saddle up the horses and tighten up the reins
Face the bitter winds of tyranny and shame
We blind ourselves with grace and favours of the heart
So our minds can hide away in the darkness of our past

aí rýcan a bhí againne

Mor fada gobh-lach lain mar fada gaol-ach
Iain mor fada gobh-lach as deogh Mairi chaoil-eadh

Tha toll air a bhata s’tha toll air a bhirlinn
Tha toll air a bhata s’tha chuiribh na saoir i

Tha h-aon oirre dha-oirre, tha h-aon oirre tri oir-re
H-aon oirre dhý-oirre, chair-ich na saoir i.

A’racan a bh’againne
Na mearlaich a thachair ris
A’racan a bha-gainne
‘Si challain thug am býs dha

Chaidh e null air a lon
Chaidh e shuirgh’ air na h’eoin
Thug mi sgriob air a thoir
‘s gorach a bha mi

‘Siomadh rud a rinn e riamh
Creididh mi gu robh e fior
Tunnagan a chaidh an fiadh
‘S iadsan a shýbhail e

Chaidh e null air a loch
Chaidh e punndach sa spot
Lubadh e a’s a’ phoit
Phlodadh qu býs e

Gheibh sinn din-neir a-nochd
Nach do rinneadh leithid am poit
‘N crotal thug mi far na cloich
‘S clomh na caor a Spaintich.

rose cottage reels (instr)

rose cottage reels (instr)

leodhasach an tir chein

Tha mi fo mhulad bho sheol mi
A Leodhas, eilean mo ghraidh,
Far na dh’fhag mi comunn na h-oige
Is mo chairdean uile ri tamh.
Cha phill rium tuilleadh gach solas,
‘S nach goraich bh’agam nam phaisd,
Mo chridhe air a lionadh le dÚrainn,
‘S mo chomhnaidh thairis air sýl.

Mo chiabhag tha tana ‘s air liathadh
O’ s cian bho dh’fhag mi do bhagh,
Mo chridhe tha g’osnaich gad iargain
Is m’iarrtas tilleadh gach la.
Ged ‘s torrach am fearann ‘s fo chraobhan
Cha luiginn fuireach na phairt.
Bu mhath leam bhith trusadh nan caorach
‘S an fhraoch an eilean mo ghrýidh.

Co rugadh ‘s chaidh arach bhon ghluin ann
A luigeadh teich as gu brath?
Ailleachd is maise a chluaintean
Gach uair gam chumail ri dan.
Na glinn tha aillidh lem bhruachan
Fo luachair, muran is starr,
Far an tric bha mise nam bhuachaill’,
Ri cuallach chruidh ann nam phaisd.

O nach robh mise far ‘n iarrainn
An Siadair Iarach a’ tamh,
Far na dh’fhag mi comunn bha rianail,
Aoidheil, carthannach, tlath.
Chan iarrainn a shonas gu siorraidh,
Chan iarrainn solas gu brath,
Ach dachaigh bhith agam na chriochan,
Fo riaghladh Athair na Athair na Slaint’.

Togaidh mi fhathast na siuil rithe
Ma chaomhnas Dia rium mo shlaint’,
S gu faigh mi fom shealladh na st˜can
Bha muirneach agam nam phaisd.
Nuair ruitheas mo laithean san t-saoghal,
B’e mo dhurachd faighinn ann bas,
‘S mo charadh an taic ri mo shÏnnsir,
‘S a ghlÏb ri creagan na h-Aird.

Lewisman in a Foreign Land

I am sorrowful since I set sail
From Lewis, my beloved isle
Where I left the group of youngsters
And all my relatives dwelling.
No longer will every comfort be with me
And every folly I had in my youth,
My heart filled with hardship
As my dwelling is over the sea.

My hair had thinned and gone grey
It has been long since I left your bay
My heart sighing being burdened
With my wish to return every day.
Although every piece of land is fertile and abounding in trees
I wouldn’t wish to live in any part of it
I would prefer to be gathering up my sheep
Amongst the heather of my beloved isle.

Who was born there and who was raised from the knee upwards

Who would wish to ever leave it?
The beauty and comeliness of its pastures
Every time causing me to compose songs
The glens which are beautiful with their banks
Under rushes, marram and grass
Where I would shepherd often
There with the herd of cattle, as a small child.

Was I not under the scythe (blade of the iron)
Dwelling in Lower Shader
Where I left a group who were organised,
Welcoming, charitable and kind
I wouldn’t want everlasting prosperity,
I wouldn’t ever want solace
But to have a home in the borders
Under rule of the ‘Father of Health.’

I will still lift my eyes to her
If the Lord spares my health for me
And I get under my sight the little hills
That were precious to me in my youth.
When my days in the world run out
It is my wish to die there
And laid beside my ancestors
In the glebe amongst the rocks of Aird.