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Description
A Rebsie solo job while Revolving Doris is on holiday.
I have a special empathy with Scottish trad music and this is a very ambient and meditative take on an old favourite.
Originating from the Isle of Skye (off the west coast of Scotland) the song is a lament for Donald Bàn MacCrimmon, one of the Dunvegan pipers, who was killed at the Rout of Moy in 1746. It was originally a pipe tune and the words were allegedly written by MacCrimmon's sister. I dunno if that's true though ... they look to me just a little too romanticised to be authentic for the time period ... the sentimentality is laid on with a trowel. I suspect the Victorians may be responsible.
The lyrics make mention of a crying banshee ... any excuse for a bit of wailing!
I took the photo at Callanish, Isle of Lewis, in the summer of 1991 ... in the days when I was experimenting with grainy high-speed film. :)
I have a special empathy with Scottish trad music and this is a very ambient and meditative take on an old favourite.
Originating from the Isle of Skye (off the west coast of Scotland) the song is a lament for Donald Bàn MacCrimmon, one of the Dunvegan pipers, who was killed at the Rout of Moy in 1746. It was originally a pipe tune and the words were allegedly written by MacCrimmon's sister. I dunno if that's true though ... they look to me just a little too romanticised to be authentic for the time period ... the sentimentality is laid on with a trowel. I suspect the Victorians may be responsible.
The lyrics make mention of a crying banshee ... any excuse for a bit of wailing!
I took the photo at Callanish, Isle of Lewis, in the summer of 1991 ... in the days when I was experimenting with grainy high-speed film. :)
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Lyrics
Lyrics and melody are both traditional.
MacCrimmon's Lament
(Cumha Mhic Criomain)
Dh'iath ceò nan stùc mu aodann Chùilinn
Is sheinn a' bhean-shìth a torman mulaid
Gorm shùilean ciùin 's an dùn a' sileadh
O'n thriall thu bhuainn 's nach till thu tuilleadh
Cha till, cha till, cha till MacCriomain
An cogadh no sìth cha till e tuilleadh
Le airgiod no nì cha till MacCriomain
Cha till e gu bràth gu latha na cruinne
Tha osag nam beann gu fann ag imeachd
Gach sruthan 's gach allt gu mall le bruthach
Tha ealtainn nan speur feadh gheugan dubhach
A' caoidh gun dh'fhalbh 's nach till thu tuilleadh
**translation added by request!**
The mist of the peaks swirls around the face of the Cuillins
And the banshee sounds her cry of sorrow
Gentle blue eyes are weeping within the castle
Since you went away never to return
MacCrimmon will not come back, not come back, not come back
In war nor peace, he will not return
Not for money nor for anything will MacCrimmon return
He won't ever come back, until the day of judgement
The breeze of the mountain fades away
Every stream and every brook runs calmly downwards
The birds of the sky are full of melancholy
Lamenting your going away never to return
(Cuillins = a range of beautiful craggy mountains on the Isle of Skye)
MacCrimmon's Lament
(Cumha Mhic Criomain)
Dh'iath ceò nan stùc mu aodann Chùilinn
Is sheinn a' bhean-shìth a torman mulaid
Gorm shùilean ciùin 's an dùn a' sileadh
O'n thriall thu bhuainn 's nach till thu tuilleadh
Cha till, cha till, cha till MacCriomain
An cogadh no sìth cha till e tuilleadh
Le airgiod no nì cha till MacCriomain
Cha till e gu bràth gu latha na cruinne
Tha osag nam beann gu fann ag imeachd
Gach sruthan 's gach allt gu mall le bruthach
Tha ealtainn nan speur feadh gheugan dubhach
A' caoidh gun dh'fhalbh 's nach till thu tuilleadh
**translation added by request!**
The mist of the peaks swirls around the face of the Cuillins
And the banshee sounds her cry of sorrow
Gentle blue eyes are weeping within the castle
Since you went away never to return
MacCrimmon will not come back, not come back, not come back
In war nor peace, he will not return
Not for money nor for anything will MacCrimmon return
He won't ever come back, until the day of judgement
The breeze of the mountain fades away
Every stream and every brook runs calmly downwards
The birds of the sky are full of melancholy
Lamenting your going away never to return
(Cuillins = a range of beautiful craggy mountains on the Isle of Skye)
moorlandt
Wow, this is such an enchanting and beautiful song. Mediative through a very scarse use of instruments, and then that voice... so pure and simple. Oh yeah, it didn't take much to totally blow me away. Listening for the third time while I'm writing this... So good, Rebsie.
Walter