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"My Sigh
Is Deep"
Och hi rì gur
trom m' osna
'S fhada bho mo luaidh a nochd mi.
Tha mise tuath aig Ceann Lochluinn,
'S is' aig Loch-an-fhir-mhaoil.
Dh'fhalbh i, ghluais i leinn dhachaidh,
Chuir i cuairt ud air Arcamh,
Siùil ùra 's croinn gheala,
Tìde mhara 's i leinn.
Fhuair mi nise lan òrdugh
Air an t-soitheach a sheòladh,
'S ann a stiùireas mi 'n t-sròn aic'
Gu MacDhomhnuill an Fhraoich.
'N uair a nochdas mi 'fàire,
Bi' mo leannan-sa 'g ràitinn,
So an soitheas aig Cràgam,
Calum Sgàire tha innt'.
Tighinn a nuas dhomh aig Barabhas
Thainig osn' oirr' bho 'n earra-dheas,
'S ann a shamhlaich mi falbh i
Ri earba air tìr.
'S ged is math a' bhi' seòladh
Cha 'n 'eil e 'gamo chòrdadh,
'S mór gu'm b' fhearr leam bhi' 'm Bòstadh
'Cur an eòrn' anns an raon.
'N uair a ràinig mi dhachaidh
Bha mo mhàthair 'na cadal,
Is m' athair 's e 'spealladh
Air machair a' mhaoir.
'S 'n uair a dhìrich mi 'chruallach,
Thug mi sùil air mo ghuallainn,
'S ann a chunnaic mi 'ghruagach
Dol mu'n cuairt air an spréidh.
'S 'n uair a dhìrich mi 'bhruthach
Thilg i 'bhuarach 's an cuman,
Thuirt i " 'S uaibhreach an diugh mi,
So cuspair mo ghaoil."
Ach na'm bithinn-s' aig baile
A gheamhradh 's a dh' earrach,
Cha leiginn mo leannan
Le balach gun strìth.
Na'm bithinn-sa làmh riut
'N uair a thug thu do làmh dhi,
'S ann a dh'fhaodadh do chàirdean
Dhol a chàradh do chinn.
Seisd:
Air fàill ó ro ù
Fàill éileadh ó ro ù
Air fàill ó ro ù
Thogaibh ó ho ro hì.
Translation
Oh my sigh is deep,
because I am far from my love tonight.
I am up North at Ceann Lochluinn
and she is at Loch an Fhir Mhaoil
She came away, she went home with us,
She made that trip to the Orkneys,
New sails and white masts
The sea's tides and she with us.
Now I've got full command
To sail the vessel.
I shall steer her prow
to Macdhomhnull an Fhraoich
When I'm seen on the horizon
My darling will say
Here's Cragam's boat
with Calum Sga\ire in it.
As I was coming down by Barvas
A gust of wind came on her from the south east
And I got her safely away
To tell the tale on land
Although it's good to sail
It doesn't please me,
I would much rather be in Bosta
Sewing barley in the field
When I got home
My mother was sleeping
and my father cutting hay
on the factor's land
When I went up the rocky hill
I glanced back over my shoulder
And I saw the girl
going around to the cattle.
And when I went up the hillside
She threw down the pail and the fetter
and said "It's proud I am today
this is the object of my love."
But if I were at home
In winter and in spring
I would not let my sweetheart go
to another, lad without a fight.
If I was by you
When you laid a hand on her
Then your family could
go to mend your head.
©1999-Raine
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