Capercaillie

The Dreaming Sea

  1. There’s Always Sunday
  2. Rithill aill
  3. The Dreaming Sea
  4. Mi le m’uilinn
  5. Early Morning Grey
  6. ‘Ic Iain ‘Ic Sheumais
  7. One More Chance
  8. Fac thu na feidh
  9. An Fhideag airgid
  10. At the end of the night
  11. Move on
  12. Calbharaigh

 

 

There’s Always Sunday

I’m not afraid I know what’s your mind
It does not worry me
When I hear your name sometimes it’s a blade
Mostly it’s a key.

And there’s always Sunday, to change your mind
for the craven and the blind
There’s always Sunday to change your mind
And I’ll take my chances here with you tonight.

You say there’s a place where two rivers meet
and they flow out to the sea
Your drunken grace your eloquence and your smiling face
make me want to believe

That there’s always Sunday, to change your mind
for the craven and the blind
There’s always Sunday to change your mind
And I’ll take my chances here with you tonight.

So offer me, one more sweet seduction
I think you know by now I can take it
And tell me this isn’t self destruction
tell me that you think we can make it

And there’s always Sunday, to change your mind
for the craven and the blind
There’s always Sunday to change your mind
And I’ll take my chances here with you tonight.

 

The Dreaming Sea

The Dreaming Sea
flexes in the lilac light
and you’re the moon and I’m the tide
cradle my head
kiss me like you wish me dead
breathe life into me
till I feel as though I’ll never sleep again
to close my eyes and feel the whole world swim
till I don’t know where you end, where I begin
the dreaming sea
whispers its too late to be saved
the next kiss could be the ninth wave
the bluff clouds swell (spin)
rain drops like pennies in a well
we spiral down into the deep
till I feel as though I’ll never sleep again
to close my eyes and feel the whole world swim
till I don’t know where you end, where I begin
till I don’t know where you end, where I begin

you and me
upon the bare teeth of the rock
at the mercy of the dreaming sea
till I feel as though I’ll never sleep again
to close my eyes and feel the whole world swim
till I don’t know where you end, where I begin
till I don’t know where you end, where I begin

Mi le m’uilinn

Mi le m’uilinn air mo ghluin
“Smuladach mi deanamh dain

Shil mo shuil shuil nuair chaidh siuil
Ri croinn-ura chaol ard
Righ, “smo run-sa nam bard

Dearcam fhathast air mo ghaol
Coiseachd air slat-chaol fo sheol

Seid seimh, socair, o ghaoth Tuath
Gus an cuir i Cluaidh as fair

Gheall a Pillidh mis, a ghraidh
Buidhe nuair ni fas an t-earn

Bidh mi guidhe air mo ghluin
Pilleadh rium thu, ruin slan

Aiseig fallain O Ghaoth Tuath
Dhachaidh dhanh mo luaidh slan.

 

 

Early Morning Grey

I’m driving through the open roads of hometown
The Junipers are swaying again
It’s barely 5 o’clock and sunlight’s on the loch
and nothing’s wrong, no nothing’s wrong

I’ve been working day and night for this moment
Since I shed those leaves of doubt
It’s here I want to stay, in the early morning grey
And I can’t change, no I can’t change

No more running at the moon in all it’s splendour
her face haunted me
I’m staying where the days will seem much longer
In the early morning grey.

There’s something in this season so golden
something in the lay of this land
If only you and me were the child I can see
we’d be all right
I’m standing on the fringe of the ocean
the century is closing at last
It’s here I want to stay in the early morning grey
and I can’t change, no I can’t change.

‘Ic Iain ‘Ic Sheumais

This song celebrates a battle between the Macdonalds and Macleods at Carnis h, North Uist in 1601. The composer it is said was moved to poetry by the death throes of the young Macdonald chieftain, and sang to drown out the latter’s moans as his lifes blood seeped through his linen shirt and drenched the ground.

It was a peculiarity of the gaels of Ireland and Scotland that love – love, sudden and threatning – when destroyed by death did not diminish with the passage of time. Rather, if the dull-hammer blows of fate were properly mourned and unbridled expression given to grief, love becomes a bitter kind of birth.

 

An fhideag airigid

Co a sheinneas an fhideag airigid
Ho ro hu a hu il o
Mac mo righ air tighinn a dh’Alba
Air lang mhar nar tri chrann airgid
Air long riomhach nam ball airgid
Tearlach og nan gorm shuil mealach
Failte, failte mian is clui dhuit
Fidhleireachd is ragha a’uil dhuit
Co a chanadh nach seinninn fhin i

The Silver Whistle

Who will play the silver reed (for pipe chanter), when the Son of my King is
coming home? asks the bard in this song which was evidently composed
before the rising of l745. While the ship in which Prince Charles had crossed
from Eriskay lay in Loch nan Uamh, Moidart, it was the sound of the bagpipe from the men of Donald Cameron of Locheil – the Gentle Lochiel – that encouraged the young prince to proceed with his adventure and other clans to jo in the Stewart cause.

It is a matter of historical record that hundreds of volunteers were found who were willing to play the silver reed for the homecoming of the Son of th eir King, and that thousands more made the supreme sacrifice for his dommed cause. This is surely testimony to the intensity of the affection the Jacobites had for the house of Stewart in general and for Prince Charles Edward Stewart in particular.

 

At the end of the night

Is your love a river
of no respite?
Will it carry me
from the desert to the sea
at the end of the night
when my heart is broken
when my dreams are ragged and trite
when I fall too far
wil you be my morning star
at the end of the night
Are you the reason I’m alive
When I have no faith in myself
Will you believe in me
Will your love get me by
If your love is the river
of no respite
if you hear my prayer
I’ll be waiting for you there
At the end of the night.

 

Move On

Imagine a place where you don’t need a name
and you don’t need a licence to open your mind
It’s a travelling circus of jokers and clowns
a movie picture that’s one of its kind
and this place is the only place where even the clergy dance in the rain
and I know if I was stronger I’d change my ways and join the parade with yo u.

Dirty face and oily hands, but adament of life so clean and so pure
and in a perfect world the rights of man
could never betray the rights of the land
and this way is the only way
a pilgrim’s walk a hail of song
and I know if I were stronger I’d change
my ways and join the parade with you.

From the backstreets of this island, move on, move on
To the walkways of the mainland move on.

Calbharaigh

Chaneil mo shul air Calbharaigh
no air Bethlehem an aigh
ach air cuil ghrod an Glaschu
far a bheil an lobhadh fas
agus air seomar an Duneidin
seomar bochdain is craidh
far a bheil an aoghainn creachdainn
ri aonagraich gu bhas

Chaneil mo shul air Calbharaigh
no air Bethlehem an aigh
ach air cuil ghrod an Glaschu
far a bheil an lobhadh fas

Chaneil mo shul air Calbharaigh
no air Bethlehem an aigh
ach air cuil ghrod an Glaschu
far a bheil an lobhadh fas
agus air seomar an Duneidin
seomar bochdain is craidh
far a bheil an aoghainn creachdainn
ri aonagraich gu bhas

 

 

Evangeline

Evangeline
Evangeline
The angel of morning is here

Though the summer is over
and we’re all a little older
we’ll get by

Evangeline
Angel of morning cleave to me.