ORAN DO DH'
FHIONNLATH MAC LEOID,
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SONG
TO FINLAY MACLEOD
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Air dha dhol
air an fhaoigh, a bhliadhna thainig e dhachaidh as an arm; ach a
bha 'n deidh sin na Phiobaire aig Mac Ic Phadruig.
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When
he went on the scrounge, the year he came home from the army; but
after that as Piper to the laird of Glenmoriston.
(A fantastically detailed account of the worthies of Glenmoriston in the mid 1800s, and their generosity to Finlay.)
Music here perhaps?
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Am Fonn —
“A cheud Diluan don raidh,
Ged bha mi leam fhin."
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The
Tune - “The first Monday of the season,
Although I was on my own. "
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'S gur mise fhuair an fhaoighe,
'S gu'n cluinn sibh mar bh' ann,
Nuair a thug mi saighdeag
A' dh' ionnsuidh an Tuim;
'S teann gur e mo gheall,
Chaidh a chunntadh a 'nall.
Thuirt gach te dhe 'n triuir,
Ma 's e Fionnladh a th' ann,
Thoir sachd an eich dha,
Thugaibh freisd air,
Gu'n bhi beag na feallt;
'S gar a bheil na daoin ann,
Cha 'n fhaod e bhi 'n cail
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It was I who went scrounging,
That you'll hear how it was,
When I shot an arrow
At the Tom (Balintombuie?);
My bet is
It was counted over.
All three said,
If that's Finlay
Give him a horse's pannier,
Attend to him,
With little treachery;
And that the people are in,
It cannot be cabbage.
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Nuair a labhair Padraig,
'S be 'n arraichd ri inns',
Gheibh e rud an drasda,
'S gach aite sam bi;
Fiach mas bi ri raite,
Gu 'r fhearr iad na sibh;
Bheir mi fhin a dha dhut,
'S gu 'r fheairde tu tri,
'S tha mi toileach air a mholadh.
Dh' fhag e toilicht' mi;
Dh' olainn a dheoch-slainte,
'S cha 'n aicheadh mi i.
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When Patrick spoke,
And it was a gift to tell,
He'll get something right now,
And everywhere else;
Try before it is said,
That they would be better than you;
I'll give you two,
And you'd be better with three,
And Iḿ happy to recommend it.
He has made me happy;
I would drink his health,
And I would not deny it.
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'S a'n Crasgaidh tha na h'-uaislean
Gu 'n chruas air an laimh,
Thug iad sud mar dhuchas,
Bho 'n thirean a bh' ann;
Ghranndaich is cloinn Domhnaill,
Luchd chosbunn na 'n Gall,
Luchd a sheaseamh chruadail,
Sa bhualadh na 'n lann;
Thilg iad domh rud s' gu'm be 'n toil e,
Beir mo shoraidh dhoibh,
Bho 'n a bha mo phocaid,
Gu 'n storas sa 'n am.
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In Crasgaidh are the nobility
Without hardship,
They inherited that,
From the lands it was;
Grant and Clan Donald,
The Lowlanders,
People that withstand hardship,
In the battering of blades;
They threw to me anything he wished,
Send my blessings to them,
Since my pocket was,
Empty at the time.
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Am Baile 'n droma shios,
Cha be miann a bhi gann,
Buidheann nach robh biasdail,
Cha b' fhiach leo bhi ann;
'S thug iad dhomh gu 'n iarraidh,
Ni bliadhna na chlann,
Do chorca math siolmhor,
Se lionadh gach bann,
Le meud an toil a bh' aca dhomh,
Cha b' ann air son mo chall,
Chuir Callum dheth mo rian mi,
Le fiachainn an dram.
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Down at Balindrom,
It's not their style to be mean
A band who aren't beastly,
It wasn't worth their while to be there;
And they gave me without my asking,
Neither year nor children,
Your good fertile oats,
Each sheaf-band was filled,
With any amount I wished,
It wasn't for my loss,
Callum made me lose my mind,
With the test of the dram.
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Am Baile na 'n carn,
Far an d' araicheadh mi,
Chaidh mi sin na Spainte,
'Sna mharch bha mi sgith;
'S mi 'm piobaire Maidsear,
A b' fhearr bh' aig an righ;
'S gu'r a h-iomadh Charge
Agus blar sa 'n robh mi,
'S bho 'n bha mi falamh a tighinn dachaidh,
Le mo choireachd fhin,
Chuir iad barr na h-athainn,
Dhomh lan air a phill.
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In Balnacarn,
Where I was raised,
I went there from Spain
In the march I was tired;
While I was the Pipe Major,
The king's favorite;
And many's the Charge
And battle was I in,
And since I was broke coming home,
My own fault,
They put at the top of the wee ford,
A hide-full for me.
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Sann a tha na h-armuinn,
A thamh 'm baile 'n Tuim,
Thug iad dhomh an tra sin,
Ni 'n airde mi chaoidh;
Chunnaic sibh mo chas mi,
'S gu 'm b' f heairde mi sibh,
Se Iain thug a bhan mi,
San tamhainn ri seinn;
Le piob ga spreigeadh 's fuaim na 'm feadan.
Mar do thionail cloinn,
'S chuala na bha marbh sinn,
Mu 'n d' fhalbh sinn de 'n luib.
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There are the heroes,
At rest in Ballintombuie,
They gave me a meal there,
The thing I most regret;
You saw my predicament,
I would be the better for you,
It was Ian who gave his wife,
In the offer to sing;
With the stirring pipes and sound of the chanter.
As children gathered,
The dead heard us,
Before we left the (river?) bend.
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'N Dulchreicheard tha na seoid,
Cha 'n e bolich a th' ann;
Bha adagan gu leor,
Air an lon air mo chionn;
Is iad a tighinn mo chomhail,
Sa'n oinnseach mo laimh,
Cluinneam do chuid ceoil,
'S theid an corr a chuir ann;
Mar chruas na craig e fuaim ga fhreagar,
Mar mhactalla 'n gleann,
Bheir mi dhut a dha,
Ars an Tailear, 's e danns.
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In Dulchreicheard are the heroes,
That's not the whole story;
There was haddock galore,
For me at lunch;
They come to my company,
And the pipes beside me,
Let me hear your music,
And the rest will be added;
As the hardness of the rock sound being answered,
Like the echo of the glen,
I'll give you two,
Says the Tailor, dancing.
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Bho 'n a bha mi dearbhte,
'S mi earbsach ga chinn,
Gu 'n ruiginn Torraghoill,
Fa 'r a foighnichear mi,
Gu faighainn rud a b' fheairrde,
Cach is mi fhin;
Uisgebeatha laidir,
'S gu 'r fhearr e na phris,
Aig duine tapaidh, uasal, tlachdmhor,
'S cha robh esan cli;
Thainig o' righ Fearagus,
Thug Albainn fo' chis.
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Since I was proven,
As trustworthy top to toe,
I would reach Torgoyle,
Where I was asked,
To take what I liked,
The rest and myself;
Strong whiskey,
Priceless it is,
Of the strong, noble, pleasant man,
And he was not awkward;
Came from king Fergus,
Who took Scotland under tax control.
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Shiubhail mi na cairdean,
'S na straidean gu 'n ceann,
'S mise fhuair an arraichd,
An la chaidh mi ann;
Gillespaig, a bh 'g 'radha,
Ri cach gu 'n bhi gann,
Fiach an toir sibh 'n 'aird e,
San tamhadh e oidhch,
Failt us furan ort a dhuine,
Thuirt iad uile rium,
Gheibh thu rud as'f heaird thu,
S' do phaigheadh ga chionn.
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I traveled from friend to friend,
And the streets to their end,
It was I who got the boon,
The day I went there;
Gillespaig, who said,
To the others not to be mean,
Try to raise him up,
While he stays the night,
Welcome to you,
They all said to me,
You will get what you want,
And your reward at the end.
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Gu 'r mise nach robh 'n eis,
Nuair a leum mi 'n t-allt ruadh,
'S gu 'r e Maighstir Grannda
Chuir ceann air a chruach;
'S na 'm b' fhear a dheanadh dan mi,
Gu phaigheadh na dhuais,
Dh' innsinn cuid deth abhaist,
'S deth nadur na h-uailse,
Gu 'n robh bhuaidh ud,
Ga do leanail
Aig a bhaile is 'uaith,
Shiol Ailpean bho 'n Ghreig,
Tha thu fhein 's na thig bh' uat.
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It was I who was not in need,
When I leapt the Allt Ruadh,
And it was Mister Grant
Who put his head round the peat stack;
And what a man that would make me,
For payment of the reward,
I would tell some of them usually,
And of the nature of the gentry,
That that influence,
Following you
At the town and from it,
The descendants of Ailpean from Greece,
You and and those that come from you.
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Bha 'n Siosalach tha 'm Blarie,
Gle phairteachail rium,
Ma 'r tha fhios aig cach,
Gu'n robh nadur ud annt;
Thug iad roimhe mal
Airson da fhocal chainnt,
Do dh' Aonghas na 'n aoir,
'S cha robh aon fhear dhiu 'n cail;
'S mor an onair air a shon doibh,
Nach robh brosgul ann,
An taobhsa righ na 'n grasan,
Gu 'm iadsa 'n 'ath laimh.
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The Chisolms who live in Blaraidh,
Very generous to me,
As the others know,
Of that nature they were;
They gave him rent
For two words,
To Angus of the satire,
And there wasn't one of them;
Great is the honor for them,
That there was no flattering
On the side of King of grace;
It is they are at his side.
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Tha cloinn Iain ruaidh an Libhisi
Rioghail gu 'n f heall,
Thug iad neart do mhir dhomh,
'S theid inns air an rann;
Sean a tha na sinnsreadh,
Air cinntinn bho 'n dream,
Tha corr agus da chiad,
Bho 'n a shiolaich iad ann,
Oidhche mhuirt bha 'n Gleannacomhann
Bha droch ghnomhaich thall,
S' iad a thog an t' Oighre,
'S ghabh greim dheth air ball.
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Clan Iain Ruaidh are at Livishie
Regal without deceit,
They gave me the strength of your part,
And the verse will say;
Ancient is your ancestry,
Growing from the folk,
There are more than two hundred,
Since they multiplied there,
The night of the massacre of Glencoe
There was bad business over there,
It was they that raised the heir,
And got a hold of him on the spot
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A bhuidheann a tha lamh rium,
Cha nar leam an luaidh,
Tha 'n t-achadh tha gu h-ard aca',
An drasd air a bhuain;
'S chuir iad fios a bhan,
Mi bhi n' airde gu luath;
Gu 'm biodh orra tamailt
Na'n tamhainnsa uath;
Cha bi 'n airc a fhuair mi aca,
'S cha do chleachd iad cruas,
S' iad a 's fearr gu fialachd,
Bha riamh sa 'n taobh tuath',
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The group beside me,
I don't expect the praise / mention,
They have the above field, '
Now harvested;
And they sent a message down,
For me to come up quickly;
That they would be offended
If I stayed on my own;
It isn’t poverty they gave me
And they used no hardship,
They are the best with generosity,
That were ever in the north ',
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'S na 'm b' fhear a bhiodh beo mi,
'S dhol comhla na 'n luib,
Sa dhol air an t' seol ud,
Chur beo shlainte cruinn,
Dh' ionnsaichinn an t-osdair,
'S mi 'n comhnaidh ga chaoidh,
'S nach robh aige phairc,
Agus braigh Chul-an-t' Saoir,
Mo mhile beannachd gu 'n robh mar ris,
Dhiong e cairid duinn,
Se bu shuaichneas da'-sa,
Bhi fabhar siol Chuinn.
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And if I were spared,
And going together with them,
Going in that manner,
To arrange a living,
I would learn as an innkeeper ,
I'm always regretting it
And he had no fields,
And the brae of Culantyre,
My thousand blessings that together with him
He joined a friend of ours,
It was his emblem,
To be favoured by the descendents of Conn.
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Nuair rachainn as an duthaich,
An null gu Mac Aoidh,
Gu 'm bu bheag na shuilean,
Na ghiulaininn leam,
'S bheir a bhean gu cuiseil mi,
Dh' ionnsuidh a rum,
Mar thug Anna direach,
Am piobaire dall;
Tha mi orra tuillidh 's draghail,
'S air an tigh a th' ann,
'S rachainn fichead mile,
Gu piobaireachd dhoibh.
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When I would go out of the country,
From here to Mackay / Sutherland,
Mall were is eyes,
In my conduct,
And his wife will bring me
To the room,
Just as Anna gave
The blind piper;
I am too anxious,
And it’s to the house,
And I would go twenty miles,
Piping to them.
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'S theid mi nise suas,
Mar a ghluaiseas a ghrein,
Sa 'n ruig mi fear Phortchlar,
Sliochd na 'n armunn bha treun;
Compach as tigh thabhairn,
Sa phaigheadh ga reir,
C'aite faicinn t-aicheadh,
A ghaidheal air feill;
Siol na 'n righrean a bha Muile,
'S tusa bun mo sgeul,
'S tu 'na mheur as uailse,
Tha dh' uailsean Strathspe.
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And I will now go up,
As the sun moves,
When I get to the man of Portclair,
Descendant of the brave hero;
Comrade of the tavern,
Paying accordingly,
Where would I see the denial
The Highlander on sale;
Descendant of the Mull kings,
You are the origin of my story,
You are the most noble,
Of the Strathspey gentry.
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Tha Donnachadh Mac Phadraig,
Gle airid gu leor,
Cha chion cuireadh dha' san,
Ged' na thar mi na choir;
Olach a thilg barr air,
Cha d' thainig e beo,
'S ged a thigeadh ciad,
Thug a nios iad gu bord;
Sar bhiataiche cheann rathaid,
'S mi nach labhair bosd,
Ged dh' fhanainnse mo thamh,
Dh' innseadh cach air an corr.
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Duncan MacPhadraig,
Is very special,
No invitation shortage is his
Though I crept up on him;
Hospitable man who threw cream on it,
He did not come alive,
And if the first comes,
He brought them up to a table;
True host at the end of the road,
I do not boast,
Though I may remain at peace,
The others would tell the rest of it.
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An Caiptean th' ann sa'n Aonach
Bha duil aige rium,
'S mise 'n duine faoin,
Nach de shaorich mi ann;
Fhuair mi 'n uiridh caora,
Air thaod as an fhang,
'S gheibhinn rud am bliadhna,
Na 'm b' fhiach leam dhol ann,
Cha d' thig dhomh bhi tuille 's bleideil.
'S bheir mi teisd air dhoibh,
S tric a chuir e 'n cuinneadh,
Gu'n chunntadh mo laimh.
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The Captain at Aonach
He was expecting me,
And me the stupid one,
Didn't I feel free there;
Last year I got a sheep,
On a halter from the fank,
And I would get something this year,
If it would be worth going,
I shall not come impertinently.
And I will give them a good account,
He often he gave me coins
Uncountable in my hand.
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