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Description
Just a little shortie this time. A Scottish elegy, in Gaelic, with nothing added. Believed to be a wife's lament for her husband, William Chisholm, who was killed at the Battle of Culloden in 1746.
I took the photo at the Callanish stone circle, Isle of Lewis, a few years back.
I took the photo at the Callanish stone circle, Isle of Lewis, a few years back.
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Lyrics
you may have fun trying to follow them ...
Och a Thearlaich Òg Stiùbhart
'S e do chuis rinn mo leireadh
Thug thu uam gach ni bh'agam
Ann an cogadh a d'aobhar
Cha chrodh is cha chairdean
Rinn mo chhradh ach mo cheile
O'n la dh'fhàg thu mi 'm aonar
Gun sion 's an t-saoghal ach leine
Mo rùn geal òg
O gur a mis' thair mo sgaradh
'S ged a chan am cha bhreug e
'S ioma tè bha na bantraich
Nach d'fhuair samhladh do 'm cheile
Fear do cheille 's do thuigse
Cha robh furasd r' a fhaotuinn
'S cha do sheas ann Cullodair
Fear do choltais bu treine
Mo rùn geal òg
Rough translation:
Oh young Charles Stewart, your campaign is the cause of my sorrow
You took from me everything I had, in the war in your name
It's not cattle and sheep I'm lamenting, but my husband
Since the day you left me alone with nothing in the world but a shroud
My fair young love
Oh I am devastated, and I tell you it's no lie
Many a woman has become a widow who never had a husband like mine
A man of your sensitivity and understanding was not easy to find
And no other man of your kind stood at Culloden, with such bravery
My fair young love
Och a Thearlaich Òg Stiùbhart
'S e do chuis rinn mo leireadh
Thug thu uam gach ni bh'agam
Ann an cogadh a d'aobhar
Cha chrodh is cha chairdean
Rinn mo chhradh ach mo cheile
O'n la dh'fhàg thu mi 'm aonar
Gun sion 's an t-saoghal ach leine
Mo rùn geal òg
O gur a mis' thair mo sgaradh
'S ged a chan am cha bhreug e
'S ioma tè bha na bantraich
Nach d'fhuair samhladh do 'm cheile
Fear do cheille 's do thuigse
Cha robh furasd r' a fhaotuinn
'S cha do sheas ann Cullodair
Fear do choltais bu treine
Mo rùn geal òg
Rough translation:
Oh young Charles Stewart, your campaign is the cause of my sorrow
You took from me everything I had, in the war in your name
It's not cattle and sheep I'm lamenting, but my husband
Since the day you left me alone with nothing in the world but a shroud
My fair young love
Oh I am devastated, and I tell you it's no lie
Many a woman has become a widow who never had a husband like mine
A man of your sensitivity and understanding was not easy to find
And no other man of your kind stood at Culloden, with such bravery
My fair young love
aclarke
Nothing more needed to say.