She stands at the window. Proud Mary, bad news. Demands from the credit. And the sheriff's men too. The wife of a fishermen no longer at sea. She can always find him where whisky flows free.
Oh, my country you are on my mind. fresh, fragrant Uist of the saplings. Where the noble men are found. Who gave their hereditary allegiance to. 'Mac ic Ailein'.
Oh boatman, na ho ro eile. Oh boatman, na ho ro eile. Oh boatman, na ho ro eile. My blessings with you wherever you go. Translation:. Often I look from the highest hill.
Thug mi'n oidhche raoir 's mi bruadar. Mar ri nionagan na buaile. B'fhinealt uasal min na gruagaich. Seinn nan duanag anns an airidh. Thug mi'n oidhche raoir 'san airidh.
Faili, faili, faili o ro;. Faili, faili, faili o ro;. Faili, faili, faili o ro;. It is a very long time since I left Lewis. I feel the winter night is long.
Water lapping round my knees. Golden sand beneath my feet. Would mean a lot to me. There's very little you can say. To make those feelings go away. Till you take me.
What happened to the fisherman's dream?. When they rowed their last boat down. What happened to the dream of the fisherman?. When they cast their last net round.
Och! a Thearlaich Og Stiubhart. 'se 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.
With a crime of passion lie those dreams of yesterday. Broken like the snows of January. Silence will fall on those masters of shame. When the family garden wakes to Spring again.
I was no more than three days old. too young to speak too young to count my toes. I think of fields where I might run. this moral twilight I've been plucked from.
O young Charles Stewart, your cause is the reason of my sorrow. You took from me everything I had, in the war on your behalf. I am not mourning cattle and sheep, but my partner.
An ataireachd bhuan, cluinn fuaim na h-ataireachd ard. Tha torann a chuain mar chualas leamsa 'nam phaisd,. Gun mhuthadh gun truas, a' sluaisreadh gainneamh na tragh's.
Here is the song "Am buchaille ban" which Capercaillie do a lovely. version of on their Crosswinds album. I was sent these words by John. Angus Macleod of Gaidhlig Aig Deas, who got them from someone at An Comunn.
Alasdair, son of exile Cholla. In your hand I would entrust deeds.. Chant.... The lord of Ach-nam-breac would be killed. by you. Chant.... He would be buried at the edge of the loch.
Alasdair Mhic oho. Cholla ghasda oho. As do laimh-s' gun oho. Earbhainn tapaidh trom eile. (refrain). Chall eile bho chall a ho ro. Chall eile bho chall a ho ro.
When day is over and life is done. Mine eyes have closed and my strength has gone,. O westwards take me and quietly lay me. In Aignish graveyard beside the sea..
An ciaradh m'fheasgair 's mo bheath' air claoidh. Mo rosg air dunadh 's a' bhas gun chli.. Stiuir curs' an lar leam gu Eilean ciatach. Gu Aignish sgiamhach far an d'araich mi..
Faili, faili, faili o/ ro;. Faili, faili, faili o/ ro;. Faili, faili, faili o/ ro;. 'S cian nan cian bho dh'fhàg mi Leòdhas.. 'S fhada learn an oidche gheamhraidh,.
You shouldnt trust me. I cant decide. Whether my instincts. Care what is right. If good is inherent. Its hard to find. Beneath the conceit. In our design.
I read the advice in your letter. To see myself without a filter. . So tonight I have locked all my doors. And Im down on all fours. Wild again. . The dawnlight is slowly approaching.