Traditional
Arranged Eilean Mor
A' mhisg a chuir an Nollaig oirnn
Cha robh dìth dollaidh oirnn
A' mhisg a chuir an Nollaig oirnn
Cha chuir i tuilleadh call oirnn
Shaoghail, a shaoghail duibh
Cò chuir an dollaich oirnn?
A shaoghail, a shaoghail duibh
Cò ghabhadh dall sinn?
A shaoghail, a shaoghail duibh
Cò chuir an dollaich oirnn?
A' mhisg a chuir an Nollaig oirnn
Cha chuir i tuilleadh call oirnn
The spree we had at Christmas
We didn't lack for liquor to make us drunk
The spree we had at Christmas
Won't cause us any more loss
World, black world
Who made us drunk?
Oh world, black world
Who would have us as drunk as we were?
World, black world
Who made us drunk?
The spree we had at Christmas
Won't cause us any more loss
This song brings back some great memories. Eilean Mor stayed for a couple of weeks on Skye at the home of the wonderful traditional Gaelic singer Christine Primrose. During the many nights of singing and laughing around her kitchen table — with the odd wee dram of whisky to lubricate our throats — she taught us this song. It says a lot for her determination that she even had the lads of Eilean Mor joining in the chorus. We performed it with her one night in a concert at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig.
Traditional
Arranged Eilean Mor
O thèid 's gun tèid
O thèid mi thairis
Gu innis nam bò
Far am bèol dhomh 'n ainnir
Gu Bràighe Lochiall
Far 'm bi fiadh 's a' langan
Is earbag na stùc
Tha gu lùthmhor eangarr
A bhean an fhuilt rèidh
Thug mi fhèin dhuit mo ghealladh
Mo ghealladh nach trèig
Ged a b'fheudar dhuinn dealach
Gur math thig brèid bàn
Air a chàradh ort beannach
Mu aghaidh gun toll aig
Nan gorm shùil mealleach
Oh I'll go, I shall go
Oh I shall go over
To the cattle grazings
To the girl I once knew
To the Brae of Loch Eil
Where the bellowing deer are
And the little roe of the peaks
That is so strong and nimble
Oh woman of the fine hair
I gave you my promise
My promise goes with you
Although we must be parted
A white head-dress becomes you well
Arranged on you in a point
The face without blemish
With the enchanting blue eye.
I wrote this song after I was given a children's book — published in Melbourne of all places — called The Mystery of Eilean Mòr. It's a strange and creepy story of a lighthouse that was built on Eilean Mòr, the largest island in the group of islands known as the Flannan Isles just off the coast of Lewis. After a great storm the lighthouse light went out and a ship (the Hesperus) was sent to find out what was going on. When they arrived there was no sign of the three lighthouse keepers. They had simply vanished without a trace.
Music and lyrics by Ruth Lee Martin
Arranged Eilean Mor
The haunted island Eilean Mor
Lies in the cold grey sea
Cold and grey
The mist rolls in
And hides the jagged, rocky shore.
The single lighthouse all alone
Stands on the high dark ground
And high and dark
The black birds call
Carries through the evening light.
No footprints here, no human touch
Just the crying birds,
And ghosts that whisper in tall grass
Of drowning men, the hungry sea
Holds spirits waiting to be free.
No fires here, no beds unmade
Just the restless sea,
The hiss and moan of endless waves,
Doors closed fast while all inside
Are gone, are stolen by the tide.
No signs of ease, no ticking clock
Just the breaking foam
On the shore the keening wind
And salty spray, the wooden cup
Lies fallen on the dark stained rug.
Traditional
Arranged Eilean Mor
O chruinneag è chruinneag
O chruinneag na buaile
O chruinneag mo chridhe
'S ann leat a ruithinn am fuadach
Gur ann thall anns a Chàrnaich
An gleann àrd nan sruth fuara
A tha'n ribhinn as bòidhche
Dh'fhàg fo leòn gu là Luain mi
Tha do shùil mar an dearcag
Bhios fo dhealt ann am bruachaig
Do dhà ghruaidh mar na caorainn
Mala chaol 's i gun ghruaman
Tha do chalpa mar bhradan
Air an aigeal a'chluaineis
'S do shlios mar an fhaoileann
Snàmh ri aodann an fhuaraidh
'S mi gu rachadh do'n Fhraing
Le Nic Fhraing a 'chuil dualaich
'S tu nach bitheadh fo mhìghean
'S ceòl na fidhle 'nad chluasan
O chruinneag è chruinneag
O chruinneag na buaile
O chruinneag mo chridhe
'S ann leat a ruithinn am fuadach
Oh young woman
Young woman of the fold
Young woman of my heart
I would run with you
Over in Carnach
In the high glen of the cold streams
There lives the most beautiful maiden
Who left me wounded 'til Monday
Your eye is as the little berry
Under dew on the bank
Your two cheeks as rowan-berries
Narrow eyebrows without gloom
The calf of your leg is as salmon
Frisking in the pool
And your side as the sea-mew
Swimming against the breeze
I would go to France
With the daughter of France, of the curly hair
You would not be melancholy
With the fiddle music in your ears
Oh young woman
Young woman of the fold
Young woman of my heart
I would run with you
I learnt this song from a recording by Maggie MacInnes on Spiorad Beatha. The tune has always struck me as being one of the most beautiful I've ever heard, and the words match the beauty of the tune. The imagery of the Gaelic poetry here is incredibly vivid and compelling.
Traditional
Arranged Eilean Mor
Chan e caoidh Mhic Shiridh
Dh'fhàg an dil' air mo ghruaidh
Sèist:
Hu o ro hu o
Ho ro o hi o hi o
Hu o ro hu o
Chan e caoidh mo leannain
Ged a dh'fhanadh e bhuam
Ach a'caoidh mo bhràthair
Chaidh a bhàthadh 's a'chuan
'S duilich leam do chùl chlannaich
Bhith 's an fheamainn 'ga luadh
'S duilich leam do gheal dheudan
Bhith' ga' reubadh 's a'chuan
Tha do leabaidh gun chàradh
'S fhad' o'n dh'fhàg thu i fuar
Cha tèid mise ga càradh
Tha thu ghràidh ro fhad' bhuam
'S tric mo shùil air an Rubha
Bhon bhruthach ud shuas
Fiach am faic mi seòl brèidgheal
Latha grèine 's a chuan
It's not lamenting Mac Siridh
That has left a tear on my cheek
It's not lamenting my sweetheart
Though he would remain from me
But it's lamenting my brother
Who has drowned in the ocean
I'm sad to think of your hair so curly
With the seaweed drifting
I'm sad to think of your teeth so white
By the seas torn apart
Your bed remains unmade
As cold you left it long ago
I won't be the one to make it
As you, love, are too far from me
Often my eyes are on the headland
From the hillside there above
Trying to see a cloth-white sail
One day upon the ocean
Traditional
Arranged Eilean Mor
Thig am fìdhleir a-nochd
Gheibh na h-ìonagan port
Thig am fìdhleir a-nochd
A-nochd thig am fìdhleir
Chorus:
Seinn o churadail o
Seinn, seinn churadail o
Seinn o churadail o
Seinn churadail oro
Tha na maoir 'ga mo shireadh
Tha na saoir 'ga mo shireadh
Tha na maoir 'ga mo shireadh
Cha ghabh mi ach tàillear
The fiddler is coming tonight
The girls will get their tune
The fiddler is coming tonight
Tonight the fiddler is coming
The bailiffs are after me
The joiners are after me
The bailiffs are after me
I won't have anyone but the tailor
OUR special thanks go to Kimmo Vennonen and Bill Arnett for their support, and a very special thank you to Christine Primrose for help with Gaelic pronounciation (although I accept full responsibility for any mistakes that may have crept in), for her generosity and hospitality while the band was in Scotland, and especially for her heart-felt musicality that she was so happy to share.
Traditional
Arranged Eilean Mor
Tha mi'n duil, tha mi'n duil
Tha mi'n duil-sa bhith tileadh
Dh'ionnsaigh Dùthaich MhicLèoid
Far an og robh mi mire.
Fhuair sinn litrichean o'n righ
Gus sinn fhin dheanamh ullamh
Gos a dhol a-null d'on Fhraing
A chur braing 'san fhear-mhilidh.
Nuair a chuir iad sinn air tir
A-measg shiobain is murain
Thug sinn batal air an traigh
'S gun d'rinn pàirt againn fuireach.
Fhir a dh'imicheas do'n iar
Ged robh bliadhna mun ruig thu
Thoir an t-soiridh seo do m'gradh
Ma is slàn mi gun tig mi.
I expect, I expect
I expect to return
To the land of Macleod
Where I played when I was young
We got the letters from the king
So that we could prepare
To go over to France
To upset the destroyer
When they put us ashore
Among the waves and the sea-bent
We fought a battle on the beach
And some of us remained
You who travel to the West
Though it were a year before you arrive
Bring this greeting to my loved one
"If I am alive, I will come"
Tune and Lyrics Ruth Lee Martin
Arranged Eilean Mor
The cold seeps through your clothes, grabs fingers, touches skin
While the wind plays tag with rubbish in a bin
The colourless apartments forbidding and grim
But don't be fooled by the sights, music's in the sound.
A light rain patters down on the roofs, on the streets
Tyres on wet cobbles drum an odd-sounding beat
The roar of the buses, the people as they speak
But don't be fooled by the sights, music's in the sound.
There's a woman on a corner in the cold wintery dusk
She sells the 'Big Issue' just to make a crust
"Come on, Lady, buy it, it's a pound, it's a must"
But don't be fooled by the sights, music's in the sound.
Lights from the roundabout reflect in puddles on the path
That leads to the stairs, to The Mound, and the grass
Where a beggar sits forlorn, and a piper plays a march
But don't be fooled by the sights, music's in the sound.
Solid as the rock the castle sitting high
Canons in the New Year, while Auld Lang Syne
Echoes in the gardens, carries in the sky
But don't be fooled by the sights, music's in the sound.
Lyrics Robert Burns
Tune Ruth Lee Martin
Arranged Eilean Mor
O Can Ye Sew Cushions? And can ye sew sheets?
And can ye sing ballooloo when the bairn greets?
And hee and haw birdie, and hee and haw lamb;
And hee and haw, birdie, my bonnie wee lamb!
Chorus:
Ba li loo la I've little for you
Ba li loo la oh what will I do?
I biggit the cradle upon the treetop,
And aye as the wind blew, my cradle did rock.
And hush a baw baby, O ba lil li loo,
And hee and baw, birdie, my bonnie wee doo.
Now hush a baw lammie, and hush a baw dear,
Now hush a baw lammie, thy minnie is here.
The wild wind is ravin', thy minnie's heart sair,
The wild wind is ravin', but ye dinna care.
Sing bal la loo lammie, sing bal la loo dear,
Does wee lammie ken that its daddie's no here?
You're rockin' fu' sweetly on mammie's warm knee,
But daddie's a rockin' upon the saut sea.
Tune and Lyrics Ruth Lee Martin, (December 18, 2004, Edinburgh)
Arranged Eilean Mor
Caught between the North and South
Suspended high above the clouds
The air's so thin it's sometimes hard to breathe
I mark the longitude and latitude
And the complacent, off-hand attitude
No understanding lights the darkened eyes
The In-Between's a frozen place
A wasteland of encoded space
A place of myth, identity
And manufactured memory
The In-between's a formless land
Just barren plains and shifting sands
And all the time I'm hanging in between
Scents and sounds come floating back
I grasp elusive threads that snap
And try to hold the fragments in my hands
But the broken pieces won't align
They're from a distant fractured time
The captured moments slipping in the past
Sometimes in dreams I'm still the child
That knew the way, knew the style
But now the walls are threatening to fall
And coming here I watch the line
I trace the path and trace the time
The places, years, and spaces in between
Traditional
Arranged Eilean Mor
Mile marbhaisg air a' ghaol
Ho hi ri ri ri ri u
Asam fhìn a thug e chlaoidh
Ho hi u a ho hug o
Ho i u a ho i u
Hao ri u a ho hu go
Sgoilt e mo chridhe 'nam chom
Dh'fhuasgail e falt far mo chinn
Cha téid mi le Mac a' Mhaoir
Na idir le Mac an t-Saoir
Cha téid mise cha téid mi
Cha téid mi do ghin 'san tìr
Gus an till mo leannan fhìn.
A thousand curses now on love
That from me sapped all strength away
Within my body broke my heart
Loosed the hair from off my head
With the factor's son I will not go
Nor will I with the joiner's son
I will not go, I will not
I will not go with anyone in the land
Until my love returns.
Tune and Lyrics Ruth Lee Martin
Arranged Eilean Mor
She moves and she glides with the grace of a swan
Sense of the summer air
Her keel cuts the waves like a ribbon a song
Floats in white sails and then is gone.
Chorus:
Ilean o ro ho bha
E hoirean o ho ro eile
Ilean o ro ho bha
E hoirean o ho ro eile.
Raise your white sails
Raise your sails.
She moves and she dances on garlands of foam
Warm in the summer air
She runs with the whale, with the tide, and the breeze
Fills her white sails as she ploughs the sea.
Chorus
She moves with light rhythm on swells rocking deep
Soft on the summer air
She steers by the stars by the light of the moon
That ghosts the white sails, she remembers the tune.
Chorus