Here are the English translations from the Gaelic on our new CD: Ceol na Samhna - The Music of November. Translations from the Scots Gaelic on Tacks 1, 3, and 8 (which are 3 tunes in one!) and from the Irish Gaelic on Track 15.
Track #1: On Haloween Night (translation by Scott Morrison)
On Halloween night there are, there’ll be,
Witches and demons innumerable, you’ll see.
There’ll be fairies with laughter,
Riding sky-horses chasing after,
And kidnapping women and their kiddies wee.
There’ll be many a man a-weeping,
And the children mournfully crying.
And the women, they’ll be a-wailin’,
And not without reason, they’ll be sayin’,
While to the hills, the fairies, they’ll be dragging.
Scot Gaelic (Scott Morrison):
Air Oidhche na Samhna bidh ann, bidh ann
Buidsichean 's deamhna neo-ghann, neo-ghann
Bidh sìthichean le aighir a' marcachd san adhar,
'S a' toirt leo' mnathan is clann, is clann.
Bidh mòran de dhaoine fo sprochd, fo sprochd,
'S a' chlann bidh a' caoineadh gu goirt, gu goirt,
Bidh mnathan a' glaoidheadh 's cha bhi iad gun adhbhar,
'S na sìthichean 'gan slaodadh don chnoc, don chnoc.
Track #3: The Tailor And The Ghost Of Kilnure Church
A long time ago, many believed that some of the old churchyard ruins were haunted by ghosts and goblins innumerable. After nightfall, very few there were who would be willing to even go past one of them, especially if they were removed from the dwellings of the living. Even fewer were they who dared to go inside a place so vile at the silent hour of midnight, and yet, the occasional fearless man would offer to perform this deed as proof of his bravery. To make certain he indeed completed his daring-do, there was a skull of a man left in the crannies inside the old church ruins. As soon as 12 o’clock would strike, he would have to go into the ruin alone where he would take the skull out with him back to the place where his companions would await his arrival.
Once there was a tailor living in the town of Fincharn just to the south of Loch Awe. He had denied that there was a ghost at all. Well, his neighbors dared him to prove to them that he was serious by going to the Kilnure grave yard at the witching hour and bring back with him, the skull (which gave the place its name) that was in the window of the old church.
The Tailor answered that he would give them stronger proof than even that by sewing a pair of trews in the church between retiring time and the crowing of the cock on the same night. They took him at his word and as soon as 10 o’clock in the evening came about, he entered the church. He sat upon a tombstone that was laying on four posts and after he put a lit candle nearby him, he began his late and lonely work. The first hour went by uneventfully while he was sewing. He kept up his courage by singing and whistling the cheeriest tunes he could recall. Eleven o’clock past in the same manner without him even hearing or seeing a single thing that would lower his spirits.
However, sometime after that he heard a noise coming from a tombstone that was between him and the door. After he peered in that direction he, thought he saw the earth under it rising and falling. At first, the sight surprised him. Then he quickly decided it was the flickering of the candle in the darkness that caused it. So, after he gave a shake of his shoulders, he turned back to his work and kept on sewing and singing as happily as he ever did.
A little after that, a gravely, hoarse voice came out of the same grave saying, “There’s the big, moldy hand without any food, oh Tailor!” However, the Tailor answered, ‘’I see that while I sew this’’ and he began to sing and sew just as he did before.
A little while later, the same gravely, hoarse voice called out, louder this time, ‘’There’s the big, moldy head without any food, oh Tailor’’ but, the Tailor answered again, ‘’I see that while I sew this’’ and he sewed faster and he sang louder than he did earlier.
On the third hour, the voice spoke with the loudest, most unworldly noise that it yet made, “There’s the big, moldy rib without any food, oh Tailor!” The Tailor replied with his usual, “I see that while I sew this” as he plied the needle faster and drew the stitches further apart.
This work continued for a while; the dead corpse exposing next his thigh and finally his foot. Then it said with a terrible voice, “There’s the big, moldy foot without any food, oh Tailor!” Once more, the Tailor answered bravely, “I see that while I sew this.” However, he knew that the time had come for him to flee. With that, he finished his work with two or three large stitches and an ugly knot on the end. He blew out the candle and he leapt out the door. The dead corpse followed him and drawing back a mighty blow, it aimed for the Tailor. It struck a doorjamb where it left an image of its hand and fingers which lasted for many days.
Fortunately, the Fincharn cock now began to crow and then the dead corpse fell back into its grave while the Tailor returned triumphantly home.
Scot Gaelic (translation by Scott Morrison):
Coming soon!
Track #8: Puirt-a-Beul (mouth music) There are three songs in this tune
Chan Eil Mo Leannan ann an Seo: My Sweetheart Is Not Here (translation by Scott Morrison)
Verse 1
My sweetheart is not here,
Wasn’t last night and won’t be tonight,
My sweetheart is not here,
Nor any many who peeks my interest.
Chorus
‘Si o a-lo a-laidh ti um (3x)
‘Si o a leam ‘si haodh rum. (vocables, no meaning)
Verse 2
There’s a straight between me and my love, (3x)
And an ocean between me and my beloved.
Chorus
Verse 3
A thin bonnet and a wool sweater (3x),
Is on my love in the Summer!
Chorus
Scot Gaelic (Scott Morrison):
Chan eil mo leannan ann an seo
cha robh a-raoir 's cha bhith a-nochd
chan eil mo leannan ann an seo
neo fear a thogas m'inntinn.
"s i o al o a laidh ti um, 's i o al o a laidh ti um
's i o al o a laidh ti um, 's i o a lum 's i thaodhrum
Caolas eadar mi 's mo luaidh (x3)
Is cuan eadar mi 's m'annsachd
Caolas Bheàrnaraigh is Uig (x3)
Gur tric mo shùil a-null air.
Baoinid caol is geannsaidh snàth (x3)
a bhios air mo ghraidh as t-Samhradh.
Is Ioma Rud Tha Dhìth Orm: I Lack Many A Thing (translation by Scott Morrison)
Verse 1
It’s many a thing that I lack that I would need in order to make a wedding,
It’s many a thing that I lack that I would need befor marriage. (2x)
Chorus 1
bhi à bhi ù bhi à bhi on your health, oh Morag Kennedy,
Ì bhi à bhi ù bhi à bhi, on your health, oh Morag! (2x)
Verse 2
Rings and jewels I would give to Morag Kennedy,
Rings and jewels I would give to Morag! (2x)
Chorus
Verse 3
Angus, Son of the Piper, it’s himself who struggles with Morag Kennedy,
Angus, Son of the Piper, It’s himself who struggles with Morag. (2x)
Chorus
Verse 4
Despite what I’ve heard, I won’t be mad with Morag Kennedy,
Despite what I’ve heard, I won’t be mad with Morag. (2x)
Chorus
Scot Gaelic (Scott Morrison):
"s ioma rud tha dhith orm a dh'fheumainn fhìn mu'n deainn banais
's ioma rud tha dhith orm a dh'fheumainn fhìn mun pòsadh (x2)
I bhi à bhi ù bhi à bhi air do shlàint' a Mhòr a' Cheannaich!
I bhi à bhi ù bhi à bhi air do shlàint' a Mhòrag (x2)
Fàinneachan is grìogagan a bheirinn thìn do Mhòr a' Cheannaich
Fàinneachan is grìogagan a bheirinn fhìnn do Mhòrag (x2)
Aonghas Mac-a-Phìobaire 's e fhèin a' strì ri Mòr a' Cheannaich
Aonagha Mac-a-Ph`ôbaire 's e fhèin a' strì ri Mòrag. (x2)
Dh'aindeoin 's dè na chauala mi cha toir mi fuath do Mhòr a' Cheannaich
Dh'aindeoin 's dè na chuala mi cha toir mi fuath do Mhòrag (x2)
A’ Cur nan Gobhar Às a’ Chreig: Removing/Gathering the Goats From the Crag (translation by Scott Morrison)
Chorus
Gathering the goats from the crag, it’s the little kilt that I’d want,
Gathering the goats from the crag, it’s the little kilt that I’d prefer. (2x)
Verse 1
It’s the kilt, the kilt, the little kilt that I’d want,
It’s the kilt, the kilt, the little kilt that I’d prefer.
It’s the kilt, the kilt, the little kilt that I’d want,
Gathering the goats from the crag, it’s the little kilt that I’d prefer.
Verse 2
If I could have my choice, It’s the little kilt that I’d want,
If I could have my choice, It’s the little kilt that I’d prefer. (2x)
Chorus
Verse 1
again, much faster!
Scot Gaelic (Scott Morrison):
A chur nan gobhar às a' chreig 's e'n t-èileadh beag bh docha leam
a chur nan gobhar às a' chreig 's e'n t-èileadh beag a b'fheàrr leam (x2).
's e'n t-èileadh, 'se'n t-èileadh, 's e'n t-èileadh beag bu docha leam,
's e'n t-fhèileadh, 's e'n t-fhèileadh, 's e'n t-fhèileadh beag a b'fheàrr leam.
's e'n t-fhèileadh, 's e'n t-fhèileadh, 's e'n t-fhèileadh beag bu docha leam,
a chur nan gobhar às a' chreig, 's e'n t-fhèileadh beag a b'fheàrr leam.
Track 15: Gleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair (Little Green Glens of Gweedore) (translation from here)
Farewell to the noble mountains of Donegal
And twice farewell to tall Errigal, arching over rowen and ash tree
When I passed by Dunlewey lake, lying quietly in the glen
Behind me were the little green glens of Gweedore, and it nearly broke my heart
Travelling through Glendowan's Hills, and Muckish behind me
I don't mind saying with sorrow and grief, that tears fell from my eyes
Westward to America was my journey, far across the wide sea
I said farewell for a while to Donegal, and the little green glens of Gweedore
I never wanted to leave my own beloved land
But the foreigner's heavy handed deceit and treachery drove me away
It would be my heart's desire to return again, when I should get a little money
To spend the end of my life with my family, 'round the little green glens of Gweedore
Yet farewell, farewell to Donegal, the County fine and fair
And to your brave men who in time of need, did not ever cower before the foreigner
There's a place in my heart for each man and woman, each child big and small
Who live in peace, without sorrow or grief, in the little green glens of Gweedore
Irish: (lyrics by Francie Mooney)
Céad slán ag sléibhte maorga chontae Dhún na nGall,
Agus dhá chéad slán ag an Earagal árd, ina stua(í) os cionn caor 's call
Nuair a ghluais mise thart le loch Dhún Lúiche, go ciún 's an ghleann ina luí
I mo dhiaidh bhí Gleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair, is beag nár bhris mo chroí.
Ag taisteal dom amach tríd chnoic Ghleann Domhain, 's an Mhucais ar mo chúl
Ní miste domh 'rá le brón 's le crá, ghur fhreasadh a shíl mise súil
Go 'Meiriceá siar, a bhí mo thriall, i bhfad thar an fharraige mhór
D'fhag mé slán ar feadh seal ag Dún na nGall, 's ag Gleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair.
Níorbh é mo mhiansa imeacht ariamh ó mo thír bheag dhílis féin
Ach trom lámh Gall, le cluain 's le feall, a thiomáin mé i gnéill
B'é rún mo chroíse pilleadh arís, nuair a dhéanfainn beagán stór
'S deireadh mo shaoil a chaitheamh lem ghaoil, fá Ghleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair.
Slán, slán go fóill a Dhún na nGall,a chontae shéimh gan smál
'S do d'fheara bréa in am an ghá, nár umhlaigh riamh roimh Ghall
Tá áit i mo chroí do gach fear a gach mnaoi,'s gach páiste beag agus mór
Áta beo go buan, gan bhuairt gan ghruaim, faoi Ghleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair.
On Halloween night there are, there’ll be,
Witches and demons innumerable, you’ll see.
There’ll be fairies with laughter,
Riding sky-horses chasing after,
And kidnapping women and their kiddies wee.
There’ll be many a man a-weeping,
And the children mournfully crying.
And the women, they’ll be a-wailin’,
And not without reason, they’ll be sayin’,
While to the hills, the fairies, they’ll be dragging.
Scot Gaelic (Scott Morrison):
Air Oidhche na Samhna bidh ann, bidh ann
Buidsichean 's deamhna neo-ghann, neo-ghann
Bidh sìthichean le aighir a' marcachd san adhar,
'S a' toirt leo' mnathan is clann, is clann.
Bidh mòran de dhaoine fo sprochd, fo sprochd,
'S a' chlann bidh a' caoineadh gu goirt, gu goirt,
Bidh mnathan a' glaoidheadh 's cha bhi iad gun adhbhar,
'S na sìthichean 'gan slaodadh don chnoc, don chnoc.
Track #3: The Tailor And The Ghost Of Kilnure Church
A long time ago, many believed that some of the old churchyard ruins were haunted by ghosts and goblins innumerable. After nightfall, very few there were who would be willing to even go past one of them, especially if they were removed from the dwellings of the living. Even fewer were they who dared to go inside a place so vile at the silent hour of midnight, and yet, the occasional fearless man would offer to perform this deed as proof of his bravery. To make certain he indeed completed his daring-do, there was a skull of a man left in the crannies inside the old church ruins. As soon as 12 o’clock would strike, he would have to go into the ruin alone where he would take the skull out with him back to the place where his companions would await his arrival.
Once there was a tailor living in the town of Fincharn just to the south of Loch Awe. He had denied that there was a ghost at all. Well, his neighbors dared him to prove to them that he was serious by going to the Kilnure grave yard at the witching hour and bring back with him, the skull (which gave the place its name) that was in the window of the old church.
The Tailor answered that he would give them stronger proof than even that by sewing a pair of trews in the church between retiring time and the crowing of the cock on the same night. They took him at his word and as soon as 10 o’clock in the evening came about, he entered the church. He sat upon a tombstone that was laying on four posts and after he put a lit candle nearby him, he began his late and lonely work. The first hour went by uneventfully while he was sewing. He kept up his courage by singing and whistling the cheeriest tunes he could recall. Eleven o’clock past in the same manner without him even hearing or seeing a single thing that would lower his spirits.
However, sometime after that he heard a noise coming from a tombstone that was between him and the door. After he peered in that direction he, thought he saw the earth under it rising and falling. At first, the sight surprised him. Then he quickly decided it was the flickering of the candle in the darkness that caused it. So, after he gave a shake of his shoulders, he turned back to his work and kept on sewing and singing as happily as he ever did.
A little after that, a gravely, hoarse voice came out of the same grave saying, “There’s the big, moldy hand without any food, oh Tailor!” However, the Tailor answered, ‘’I see that while I sew this’’ and he began to sing and sew just as he did before.
A little while later, the same gravely, hoarse voice called out, louder this time, ‘’There’s the big, moldy head without any food, oh Tailor’’ but, the Tailor answered again, ‘’I see that while I sew this’’ and he sewed faster and he sang louder than he did earlier.
On the third hour, the voice spoke with the loudest, most unworldly noise that it yet made, “There’s the big, moldy rib without any food, oh Tailor!” The Tailor replied with his usual, “I see that while I sew this” as he plied the needle faster and drew the stitches further apart.
This work continued for a while; the dead corpse exposing next his thigh and finally his foot. Then it said with a terrible voice, “There’s the big, moldy foot without any food, oh Tailor!” Once more, the Tailor answered bravely, “I see that while I sew this.” However, he knew that the time had come for him to flee. With that, he finished his work with two or three large stitches and an ugly knot on the end. He blew out the candle and he leapt out the door. The dead corpse followed him and drawing back a mighty blow, it aimed for the Tailor. It struck a doorjamb where it left an image of its hand and fingers which lasted for many days.
Fortunately, the Fincharn cock now began to crow and then the dead corpse fell back into its grave while the Tailor returned triumphantly home.
Scot Gaelic (translation by Scott Morrison):
Coming soon!
Track #8: Puirt-a-Beul (mouth music) There are three songs in this tune
Chan Eil Mo Leannan ann an Seo: My Sweetheart Is Not Here (translation by Scott Morrison)
Verse 1
My sweetheart is not here,
Wasn’t last night and won’t be tonight,
My sweetheart is not here,
Nor any many who peeks my interest.
Chorus
‘Si o a-lo a-laidh ti um (3x)
‘Si o a leam ‘si haodh rum. (vocables, no meaning)
Verse 2
There’s a straight between me and my love, (3x)
And an ocean between me and my beloved.
Chorus
Verse 3
A thin bonnet and a wool sweater (3x),
Is on my love in the Summer!
Chorus
Scot Gaelic (Scott Morrison):
Chan eil mo leannan ann an seo
cha robh a-raoir 's cha bhith a-nochd
chan eil mo leannan ann an seo
neo fear a thogas m'inntinn.
"s i o al o a laidh ti um, 's i o al o a laidh ti um
's i o al o a laidh ti um, 's i o a lum 's i thaodhrum
Caolas eadar mi 's mo luaidh (x3)
Is cuan eadar mi 's m'annsachd
Caolas Bheàrnaraigh is Uig (x3)
Gur tric mo shùil a-null air.
Baoinid caol is geannsaidh snàth (x3)
a bhios air mo ghraidh as t-Samhradh.
Is Ioma Rud Tha Dhìth Orm: I Lack Many A Thing (translation by Scott Morrison)
Verse 1
It’s many a thing that I lack that I would need in order to make a wedding,
It’s many a thing that I lack that I would need befor marriage. (2x)
Chorus 1
bhi à bhi ù bhi à bhi on your health, oh Morag Kennedy,
Ì bhi à bhi ù bhi à bhi, on your health, oh Morag! (2x)
Verse 2
Rings and jewels I would give to Morag Kennedy,
Rings and jewels I would give to Morag! (2x)
Chorus
Verse 3
Angus, Son of the Piper, it’s himself who struggles with Morag Kennedy,
Angus, Son of the Piper, It’s himself who struggles with Morag. (2x)
Chorus
Verse 4
Despite what I’ve heard, I won’t be mad with Morag Kennedy,
Despite what I’ve heard, I won’t be mad with Morag. (2x)
Chorus
Scot Gaelic (Scott Morrison):
"s ioma rud tha dhith orm a dh'fheumainn fhìn mu'n deainn banais
's ioma rud tha dhith orm a dh'fheumainn fhìn mun pòsadh (x2)
I bhi à bhi ù bhi à bhi air do shlàint' a Mhòr a' Cheannaich!
I bhi à bhi ù bhi à bhi air do shlàint' a Mhòrag (x2)
Fàinneachan is grìogagan a bheirinn thìn do Mhòr a' Cheannaich
Fàinneachan is grìogagan a bheirinn fhìnn do Mhòrag (x2)
Aonghas Mac-a-Phìobaire 's e fhèin a' strì ri Mòr a' Cheannaich
Aonagha Mac-a-Ph`ôbaire 's e fhèin a' strì ri Mòrag. (x2)
Dh'aindeoin 's dè na chauala mi cha toir mi fuath do Mhòr a' Cheannaich
Dh'aindeoin 's dè na chuala mi cha toir mi fuath do Mhòrag (x2)
A’ Cur nan Gobhar Às a’ Chreig: Removing/Gathering the Goats From the Crag (translation by Scott Morrison)
Chorus
Gathering the goats from the crag, it’s the little kilt that I’d want,
Gathering the goats from the crag, it’s the little kilt that I’d prefer. (2x)
Verse 1
It’s the kilt, the kilt, the little kilt that I’d want,
It’s the kilt, the kilt, the little kilt that I’d prefer.
It’s the kilt, the kilt, the little kilt that I’d want,
Gathering the goats from the crag, it’s the little kilt that I’d prefer.
Verse 2
If I could have my choice, It’s the little kilt that I’d want,
If I could have my choice, It’s the little kilt that I’d prefer. (2x)
Chorus
Verse 1
again, much faster!
Scot Gaelic (Scott Morrison):
A chur nan gobhar às a' chreig 's e'n t-èileadh beag bh docha leam
a chur nan gobhar às a' chreig 's e'n t-èileadh beag a b'fheàrr leam (x2).
's e'n t-èileadh, 'se'n t-èileadh, 's e'n t-èileadh beag bu docha leam,
's e'n t-fhèileadh, 's e'n t-fhèileadh, 's e'n t-fhèileadh beag a b'fheàrr leam.
's e'n t-fhèileadh, 's e'n t-fhèileadh, 's e'n t-fhèileadh beag bu docha leam,
a chur nan gobhar às a' chreig, 's e'n t-fhèileadh beag a b'fheàrr leam.
Track 15: Gleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair (Little Green Glens of Gweedore) (translation from here)
Farewell to the noble mountains of Donegal
And twice farewell to tall Errigal, arching over rowen and ash tree
When I passed by Dunlewey lake, lying quietly in the glen
Behind me were the little green glens of Gweedore, and it nearly broke my heart
Travelling through Glendowan's Hills, and Muckish behind me
I don't mind saying with sorrow and grief, that tears fell from my eyes
Westward to America was my journey, far across the wide sea
I said farewell for a while to Donegal, and the little green glens of Gweedore
I never wanted to leave my own beloved land
But the foreigner's heavy handed deceit and treachery drove me away
It would be my heart's desire to return again, when I should get a little money
To spend the end of my life with my family, 'round the little green glens of Gweedore
Yet farewell, farewell to Donegal, the County fine and fair
And to your brave men who in time of need, did not ever cower before the foreigner
There's a place in my heart for each man and woman, each child big and small
Who live in peace, without sorrow or grief, in the little green glens of Gweedore
Irish: (lyrics by Francie Mooney)
Céad slán ag sléibhte maorga chontae Dhún na nGall,
Agus dhá chéad slán ag an Earagal árd, ina stua(í) os cionn caor 's call
Nuair a ghluais mise thart le loch Dhún Lúiche, go ciún 's an ghleann ina luí
I mo dhiaidh bhí Gleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair, is beag nár bhris mo chroí.
Ag taisteal dom amach tríd chnoic Ghleann Domhain, 's an Mhucais ar mo chúl
Ní miste domh 'rá le brón 's le crá, ghur fhreasadh a shíl mise súil
Go 'Meiriceá siar, a bhí mo thriall, i bhfad thar an fharraige mhór
D'fhag mé slán ar feadh seal ag Dún na nGall, 's ag Gleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair.
Níorbh é mo mhiansa imeacht ariamh ó mo thír bheag dhílis féin
Ach trom lámh Gall, le cluain 's le feall, a thiomáin mé i gnéill
B'é rún mo chroíse pilleadh arís, nuair a dhéanfainn beagán stór
'S deireadh mo shaoil a chaitheamh lem ghaoil, fá Ghleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair.
Slán, slán go fóill a Dhún na nGall,a chontae shéimh gan smál
'S do d'fheara bréa in am an ghá, nár umhlaigh riamh roimh Ghall
Tá áit i mo chroí do gach fear a gach mnaoi,'s gach páiste beag agus mór
Áta beo go buan, gan bhuairt gan ghruaim, faoi Ghleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair.
