Turas San Lochmor 歌词

歌曲	Turas San Lochmor
歌手	Julie Fowlis
专辑	lon-Dubh
下载	Image LRC TXT

	[Turas san Lochmor]
	An nì a bha nam inntinn gun inns mi dhuibh an rann:
	Gu falbhainn dh’aindeoin sìde air sgrìob do thìr nan Gall,
	Le baga làn de chearcan agus rudan a bha gann –
	Gum bithinn aig Bliadhn’ Ùir ann ’s gun chùmhnadh air an dram.
	Diciadain dh’fhalbh mi casruisgt’ le mo bhagaichean nam dhòrn,
	A’ dol a Loch nam Madadh ghabhail aiseag san Lochmor;
	Bha fuachd na mo chasan-sa ’s bha sneachd’ air bhàrr nan lòn ‑
	Cha dìochuimhnich mi ’n t‑allaban cho fad’ ’s a bhios mi beò.
	Nuair ràinig mi a’ cheàrdach, àrdach duine chòir
	A thug a‑staigh gun dàil mi ’s a nochd dhomh càirdeas mòr,
	Thug dhomh tì a b’ fheàirrde mi ri aghaidh bhlàth an stòbh ‑
	Gu seasainn fuachd nuair dh’fhàg sinn le mo chaiseart blàth ’s lem chòt’.
	Nuair dh’fhalbh an carbad-ola leinn ’s ar n‑aghaidh thoir dhan tuath,
	Bha sinn greis an Cearsabhagh a’ blasad air stuth cruaidh;
	Gun tàinig Bean na Maise ’s am muir geal oirre mun cuairt,
	’S chanainn fhìn gum b’ amadan a rachadh innt’ air chuan.
	Nuair thog i mach gu farsainneachd, ’s sinn airsnealach is sgìth,
	Nuair thòisich cur na mara oirnn, bu mhath a bhith air tìr;
	Bha mise mar bha càch, le spàirn orm a’ strì ‑
	An drama dh’òl mi ’n Cearsabhagh, bu duilich dhealaich sinn.
	On ear‑dheas bha i sèideadh oirnn, gun choltas tighinn na b’ fheàrr,
	Bha sinn uil’, oir b’ fheudar dhuinn, nar sìneadh air an làr;
	Nuair readh i sìos dhan chlaisidh leinn ’s am muir a’ sgailceadh àrd,
	Bha cùram air gach neach againn nach tilleadh i gu bràth.
	B ’e siud an oidhche ànranach a bh’ againn anns a’ bhàt’,
	Ach ràinig sinn Loch Baghasdail le dìon an Tì as Àird;
	Thug mi leam mo bhagaichean agus thàrr mi às a’ bhàt’ ‑
	Chan fhanainn‑sa na b’ fhaid’ innte ged rachainn dhan taigh-gheàrd!
	Fhuair mi cadal socair ann an dachaigh dhaoine còir,
	Aig Maiseig Ruadh, ’s mo ghràdh oirre, oir nochd i càirdeas dhòmhs’:
	Guma fada slàn i, oir ’s bàidheil i na dòigh
	Gu gabhail ro aon ànranach a dh’fhàgadh an Lochmor.
	Mun crìochnaich mi an t-òran seo, gun inns mi dhuibh an còrr:
	A‑màireach thill mi dhachaigh agus botal na mo phòc;
	Chruinnich sinn na càirdean gu pàrtaidh dhe gach seòrs’,
	Is cha robh h‑aon a thàinig leinn a chàineadh an Lochmor!
	[A Journey in the Lochmor]
	I’ll tell you in verse what my intention was.
	Regardless of bad weather, I would pay a visit to the Lowlands,
	carrying a bag full of chickens and other scarce goods.
	I’d be there at New Year and there would be no stinting on whisky
	Barefoot, I left on Wednesday, clutching my bags,
	heading for Lochmaddy and a crossing on the Lochmor.
	Snow had fallen and my feet were freezing.
	It was a journey I’ll never forget.
	I reached the smithy, home of a good man,
	who took me in and showed me great kindness.
	In front of a warm stove he restored me with tea.
	I was able to withstand the cold when I left with warm shoes and a coat.
	The motor car left, heading north,
	and we spent a while in Cearsabhagh sampling whisky.
	Bean na Maise appeared through foaming seas all around and,
	in my opinion, only a fool would take to sea in her.
	By the time she reached open seas we were depressed and weary.
	As seasickness started we longed to be ashore.
	I was like the others, fighting it valiantly.
	But sadly I had to part from the dram I drank in Cearsabhgh.
	A south-easterly wind was blowing hard and showing no sign of abating.
	We were all, of necessity, lying on the floor.
	When she plunged into the trough, with seas breaking high above her,
	we were all terrified that she’d never right herself again.
	Despite having such a stormy night in the ship,
	under the protection of the Almighty, we reached Lochboisdale.
	I took my bags and escaped from the ship.
	Threat of imprisonmemt wouldn’t have made me stay on board.
	I had a good night’s sleep in dear Maiseag Ruadh’s,
	the home of generous, friendly people.
	May she live long for the kindly welcome she gave
	to at least one wanderer who deserted the Lochmor.
	Before I finish this song I’ll tell you the rest.
	The following day I returned home with a bottle in my pocket.
	Friends gathered and we had a splendid party and
	no-one in the company bad-mouthed the Lochmor.

	Turas san Lochmor
	An ni a bha nam inntinn gun inns mi dhuibh an rann:
	Gu falbhainn dh' aindeoin si de air sgri ob do thi r nan Gall,
	Le baga la n de chearcan agus rudan a bha gann
	Gum bithinn aig Bliadhn' Ù ir ann ' s gun chu mhnadh air an dram.
	Diciadain dh' fhalbh mi casruisgt' le mo bhagaichean nam dho rn,
	A' dol a Loch nam Madadh ghabhail aiseag san Lochmor
	Bha fuachd na mo chasansa ' s bha sneachd' air bha rr nan lo n
	Cha di ochuimhnich mi ' n t allaban cho fad' ' s a bhios mi beo.
	Nuair ra inig mi a' chea rdach, a rdach duine cho ir
	A thug a staigh gun da il mi ' s a nochd dhomh ca irdeas mo r,
	Thug dhomh ti a b' fhea irrde mi ri aghaidh bhla th an sto bh
	Gu seasainn fuachd nuair dh' fha g sinn le mo chaiseart bla th ' s lem cho t'.
	Nuair dh' fhalbh an carbadola leinn ' s ar n aghaidh thoir dhan tuath,
	Bha sinn greis an Cearsabhagh a' blasad air stuth cruaidh
	Gun ta inig Bean na Maise ' s am muir geal oirre mun cuairt,
	' S chanainn fhi n gum b' amadan a rachadh innt' air chuan.
	Nuair thog i mach gu farsainneachd, ' s sinn airsnealach is sgi th,
	Nuair tho isich cur na mara oirnn, bu mhath a bhith air ti r
	Bha mise mar bha ca ch, le spa irn orm a' stri
	An drama dh'o l mi ' n Cearsabhagh, bu duilich dhealaich sinn.
	On ear dheas bha i se ideadh oirnn, gun choltas tighinn na b' fhea rr,
	Bha sinn uil', oir b' fheudar dhuinn, nar si neadh air an la r
	Nuair readh i si os dhan chlaisidh leinn ' s am muir a' sgailceadh a rd,
	Bha cu ram air gach neach againn nach tilleadh i gu bra th.
	B ' e siud an oidhche a nranach a bh' againn anns a' bha t',
	Ach ra inig sinn Loch Baghasdail le di on an Ti as À ird
	Thug mi leam mo bhagaichean agus tha rr mi a s a' bha t'
	Chan fhanainn sa na b' fhaid' innte ged rachainn dhan taighghea rd!
	Fhuair mi cadal socair ann an dachaigh dhaoine co ir,
	Aig Maiseig Ruadh, ' s mo ghra dh oirre, oir nochd i ca irdeas dho mhs':
	Guma fada sla n i, oir ' s ba idheil i na do igh
	Gu gabhail ro aon a nranach a dh' fha gadh an Lochmor.
	Mun cri ochnaich mi an to ran seo, gun inns mi dhuibh an co rr:
	A ma ireach thill mi dhachaigh agus botal na mo pho c
	Chruinnich sinn na ca irdean gu pa rtaidh dhe gach seo rs',
	Is cha robh h aon a tha inig leinn a cha ineadh an Lochmor!
	A Journey in the Lochmor
	I' ll tell you in verse what my intention was.
	Regardless of bad weather, I would pay a visit to the Lowlands,
	carrying a bag full of chickens and other scarce goods.
	I' d be there at New Year and there would be no stinting on whisky
	Barefoot, I left on Wednesday, clutching my bags,
	heading for Lochmaddy and a crossing on the Lochmor.
	Snow had fallen and my feet were freezing.
	It was a journey I' ll never forget.
	I reached the smithy, home of a good man,
	who took me in and showed me great kindness.
	In front of a warm stove he restored me with tea.
	I was able to withstand the cold when I left with warm shoes and a coat.
	The motor car left, heading north,
	and we spent a while in Cearsabhagh sampling whisky.
	Bean na Maise appeared through foaming seas all around and,
	in my opinion, only a fool would take to sea in her.
	By the time she reached open seas we were depressed and weary.
	As seasickness started we longed to be ashore.
	I was like the others, fighting it valiantly.
	But sadly I had to part from the dram I drank in Cearsabhgh.
	A southeasterly wind was blowing hard and showing no sign of abating.
	We were all, of necessity, lying on the floor.
	When she plunged into the trough, with seas breaking high above her,
	we were all terrified that she' d never right herself again.
	Despite having such a stormy night in the ship,
	under the protection of the Almighty, we reached Lochboisdale.
	I took my bags and escaped from the ship.
	Threat of imprisonmemt wouldn' t have made me stay on board.
	I had a good night' s sleep in dear Maiseag Ruadh' s,
	the home of generous, friendly people.
	May she live long for the kindly welcome she gave
	to at least one wanderer who deserted the Lochmor.
	Before I finish this song I' ll tell you the rest.
	The following day I returned home with a bottle in my pocket.
	Friends gathered and we had a splendid party and
	noone in the company badmouthed the Lochmor.

	Turas san Lochmor
	An nì a bha nam inntinn gun inns mi dhuibh an rann:
	Gu falbhainn dh' aindeoin sì de air sgrì ob do thì r nan Gall,
	Le baga là n de chearcan agus rudan a bha gann
	Gum bithinn aig Bliadhn' Ù ir ann ' s gun chù mhnadh air an dram.
	Diciadain dh' fhalbh mi casruisgt' le mo bhagaichean nam dhò rn,
	A' dol a Loch nam Madadh ghabhail aiseag san Lochmor
	Bha fuachd na mo chasansa ' s bha sneachd' air bhà rr nan lò n
	Cha dì ochuimhnich mi ' n t allaban cho fad' ' s a bhios mi beò.
	Nuair rà inig mi a' cheà rdach, à rdach duine chò ir
	A thug a staigh gun dà il mi ' s a nochd dhomh cà irdeas mò r,
	Thug dhomh tì a b' fheà irrde mi ri aghaidh bhlà th an stò bh
	Gu seasainn fuachd nuair dh' fhà g sinn le mo chaiseart blà th ' s lem chò t'.
	Nuair dh' fhalbh an carbadola leinn ' s ar n aghaidh thoir dhan tuath,
	Bha sinn greis an Cearsabhagh a' blasad air stuth cruaidh
	Gun tà inig Bean na Maise ' s am muir geal oirre mun cuairt,
	' S chanainn fhì n gum b' amadan a rachadh innt' air chuan.
	Nuair thog i mach gu farsainneachd, ' s sinn airsnealach is sgì th,
	Nuair thò isich cur na mara oirnn, bu mhath a bhith air tì r
	Bha mise mar bha cà ch, le spà irn orm a' strì
	An drama dh'ò l mi ' n Cearsabhagh, bu duilich dhealaich sinn.
	On ear dheas bha i sè ideadh oirnn, gun choltas tighinn na b' fheà rr,
	Bha sinn uil', oir b' fheudar dhuinn, nar sì neadh air an là r
	Nuair readh i sì os dhan chlaisidh leinn ' s am muir a' sgailceadh à rd,
	Bha cù ram air gach neach againn nach tilleadh i gu brà th.
	B ' e siud an oidhche à nranach a bh' againn anns a' bhà t',
	Ach rà inig sinn Loch Baghasdail le dì on an Tì as À ird
	Thug mi leam mo bhagaichean agus thà rr mi à s a' bhà t'
	Chan fhanainn sa na b' fhaid' innte ged rachainn dhan taighgheà rd!
	Fhuair mi cadal socair ann an dachaigh dhaoine cò ir,
	Aig Maiseig Ruadh, ' s mo ghrà dh oirre, oir nochd i cà irdeas dhò mhs':
	Guma fada slà n i, oir ' s bà idheil i na dò igh
	Gu gabhail ro aon à nranach a dh' fhà gadh an Lochmor.
	Mun crì ochnaich mi an tò ran seo, gun inns mi dhuibh an cò rr:
	A mà ireach thill mi dhachaigh agus botal na mo phò c
	Chruinnich sinn na cà irdean gu pà rtaidh dhe gach seò rs',
	Is cha robh h aon a thà inig leinn a chà ineadh an Lochmor!
	A Journey in the Lochmor
	I' ll tell you in verse what my intention was.
	Regardless of bad weather, I would pay a visit to the Lowlands,
	carrying a bag full of chickens and other scarce goods.
	I' d be there at New Year and there would be no stinting on whisky
	Barefoot, I left on Wednesday, clutching my bags,
	heading for Lochmaddy and a crossing on the Lochmor.
	Snow had fallen and my feet were freezing.
	It was a journey I' ll never forget.
	I reached the smithy, home of a good man,
	who took me in and showed me great kindness.
	In front of a warm stove he restored me with tea.
	I was able to withstand the cold when I left with warm shoes and a coat.
	The motor car left, heading north,
	and we spent a while in Cearsabhagh sampling whisky.
	Bean na Maise appeared through foaming seas all around and,
	in my opinion, only a fool would take to sea in her.
	By the time she reached open seas we were depressed and weary.
	As seasickness started we longed to be ashore.
	I was like the others, fighting it valiantly.
	But sadly I had to part from the dram I drank in Cearsabhgh.
	A southeasterly wind was blowing hard and showing no sign of abating.
	We were all, of necessity, lying on the floor.
	When she plunged into the trough, with seas breaking high above her,
	we were all terrified that she' d never right herself again.
	Despite having such a stormy night in the ship,
	under the protection of the Almighty, we reached Lochboisdale.
	I took my bags and escaped from the ship.
	Threat of imprisonmemt wouldn' t have made me stay on board.
	I had a good night' s sleep in dear Maiseag Ruadh' s,
	the home of generous, friendly people.
	May she live long for the kindly welcome she gave
	to at least one wanderer who deserted the Lochmor.
	Before I finish this song I' ll tell you the rest.
	The following day I returned home with a bottle in my pocket.
	Friends gathered and we had a splendid party and
	noone in the company badmouthed the Lochmor.

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