Celtic Lyrics Corner > Artists & Groups > Mary Jane Lamond > Ln Dil > A Mhrag 'S Na Horo Gheallaidh

   
Ln Dil A Mhrag 'S Na Horo Gheallaidh
   
Credits: Traditional
   
Appears On: Ln Dil
   
Language: Gidhlig (Scottish Gaelic)
   
Other Versions: "Mhorag's Na Horo Gheallaidh" on Clannad's album Fuaim
"Morag's Na Horo Gheallaidh" on Mairi MacInnes' album Causeway
   

Lyrics: English Translation:
   
Sist: Chorus:
og og
A Mhrag 's na ho r gheallaidh A Mhrag 's na ho r gheallaidh
og og
   
A Mhrag bheag a' chil riomhaich Little Morag of the lovely locks
Dheanainn-sa do chr a cheannach I would buy you a comb
   
A Mhrag bheag a' chil dualaich Little Morag of the curling tresses
'S tric do luaidh a' tighinn air m'aire Often your love comes to mind
   
Mis' amuigh air luing a' seladh Me, out on the ship sailing
'S mi gun digh air tighinn gu baile Without a way to return home
   
An cuimhne leat an oidhche bha sinn Do you remember the night we were on board?
'S a' luing bhin air bhrr na mara The white sailed ship on the surface of the sea
   
An oidhche sin a chaidh ar fuadach That was the night we were driven off course
Thnaig a' mhuir mhr 'na gleannaibh By the sea that rose in billows
   
'S truagh a Rgh nach ann a bha mi It's a pity that I wasn't
'N ciste-laigh nam brdan tana In the coffin of narrow boards
   
Bhon a chunna mi na coinnlean Since I saw the candles
Ag gabhail araoir air do bhanais Blazing at your wedding banquet
   
Nuair dheidheadh tu amach a dh'fhia'chadh When you went on the hunt
Bu trom do thriall bhon a' bhaile Heavy your procession from the village
   
Le d'ghunna leathann 's le d'fhdar With your slender barrelled gun
Le do ghille 's c 'na dheannamh Powder, attendant and bounding dog
   
Leagadh tu 'n damh donn a' bhirein You would kill the rutting brown stag
'S fhuil 'ga thcadh 's e gun anail Leaving him breathless and choked on his blood
   
Cha leiginn thu chr nan caorach I would not permit you to go to the sheep pen
Air eagal d'aodach a shalach For fear you would soil you clothing
   
Cha leiginn thu chr nan gobhar I would not permit you to go to the goat pen
No bhleoghainn a' chruidh as t-earrach Or to milk the cows at springtime
   
Mi air chl nam beanntan rda I am on the backside of the high mountains
Cha chluinn mo mhthair mo ghearain My mother can't hear my complaint
   
A Mhrag bheag nighean an Ledaich Little Morag, daughter of the MacLeod chief
Airson a dheanainn drtadh faladh For whom I would spill blood
   
A Mhrag bheag tr nan Ledach Little Morag from the land of the MacLeods
Dh'lainn do dheoch-slint' a dh'aindheoin I would drink your toast notwithstanding