Showing posts with label Gaelic Song. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gaelic Song. Show all posts

Friday, 24 February 2012

Òran a’ Gheòcaire

Just for Lent: a blog about the ‘Glutton’s Song’ (‘Cruachan Ben as crowdie, Loch Awe cream …’) recorded by Alexander Carmichael from Donald Maclean, husband of Catrìona MacColl from Lismore, while on a visit to the Isle of Coll in September 1887.

Tha e air a bhith greiseag mhath bho nochd am blog mu dheireadh anns a’ Ghàidhlig; an-diugh, cuiridh sinn fo ur comhair pìos beag mu rannan éibhinn, agus an Carghas dìreach a’ tòiseachadh. Seo thugaibh Òran a’ Gheòcaire, co-dhiù mar a sgrìobh Alasdair MacGilleMhìcheil sìos e bho aithris Dhomhnaill MhicGillEathain, tuathanach Àirigh Leòid, ’s e air chuairt ann an Eilean Chola a’s t-fhoghar 1887:

            The Song of the Glutton

Cruachan Beann bhi na ghruitheam (curds & butter mixed)
Loch du’aich bhi na uac[hd]ar
Gach beinn s gach monadh bhi nan caise
S an gleann so lamh rium lan fuaraig
            O b’eibhinn an t-aran
            Strac thairis da’n im
            Saoil m bu chunnart ar bathadh
            Na m bu bhlathach bu chuan
            Siuil mhuice us crainn gheire
            S mor an t-eireac[hd]as cuain sid!

                        Oran a gheocaire
From Donald Maclean Airileoid, Coll
                                    Sep 1887 [CW131A, fo.126]

Ged a chanas an sluagh-chunntas gum b’ ann ann an Eilean nam Muc a rugadh Domhnall MacGillEathain, timcheall air 1825, b’ ann air tac Chille Mhoire ann an Eilean Rùma a bha na daoine aige air a bhith a’ fuireachd airson sia glùintean. Ann an 1860 phòs Domhnall Catrìona NicColla á Lios Mór; bha ochdnar de theaghlach aca. Faodaidh amharas a bhith againn gun robh Catrìona càirdeach do dh’ Alasdair taobh a mhàthar, agus b’ e siud a thug air dhol air chéilidh air tac Àirigh Leòid ann an Cola ’s e air chuairt ann an Eilean Thiriodh aig deireadh an t-Sultain 1887. Gu dearbh, leis mar a rugadh Catrìona ann an 1836, bhiodh e coltach gun robh an dithis Liosach air a bhith eòlach air a chéile bho aois òig.

Tha e follaiseach gun robh na briathran a’ fairtleachadh air Domhnall aig deireadh an òrain. Seo mar a théid na rannan gu léir a chur sìos anns a’ phàipear-naidheachd Mac-Talla ann an 1901: chaidh an clò-bhualadh an uair sin le Alasdair MacGillEathain Mac na Ceàrdaich ’na chruinneachadh Mactalla nan Tùr (1909).

        Guidhe a’ Gheocaire

Nam faighinn-sa m’ iarrtas,
            B’ e mo mhiann air an uair seo
Cruachan Beann bhith ’na ghruthaim
            Is Loch Odha bhith ’na uachdar,
Is gach gleann a tha làmh ris
            Bhith làn blàth bhainne buaile.
Cha bhiodh cùram gum bàtht’ sinn
            Nam bu bhlàthach bu chuan dhuinn.
            O, b’ éibhinn an t-aran
            Is stràic thairis de’n ìm air!

Bhiodh taoibh dhìonach a’ m’ bhàta
            De bhuntàta math suaite;
Druim dìreach de dh’ aran,
            Is rol mharag mu’n cuairt air;
Bhiodh a tobhta de chabhraich,
            ’S bhiodh an dram ’dol mu’n cuairt innt’;
’S mi gun iomaireadh gu làidir,
            Is ràimh chàis’ air a gualainn.
            O, b’ éibhinn an t-aran,
            Is stràic thairis de’n ìm air!

Tagairtean:
CW131A, fo.126
Cruinneachadh Maclean Sinclair NSARM MG 1, leabh. 2660 àirn 74–5.

Alexander Maclean Sinclair (deas.), Mactalla nan Tùr (Sydney, CB, 1909), 100–1.
_____, The Clan Gillean (Charlottetown, 1899), 399.
Mac-Talla, ix, 41 (12 Giblein 1901)

Dealbh:
Cruachan Beann agus Loch Odha

Wednesday, 31 August 2011

Lover’s Rock

Hornish Point, South Uist / Rudha Thornais, Uibhist a Deas
Another song narrative recorded on 27 May 1869 by Alexander Carmichael was recited by a domestic servant, Mary MacMillan (c. 1825–1883) who hailed from Lionauiche, South Uist. The song and accompanying narrative are versions of A’ Bhean Eudach (The Jealous Wife), mentioned in previous blogs, as it contains similar motifs: for instance, the man has to choose between two sweethearts and then when he overheard his eventual choice singing about what she had done in order to gain his affection, he leaves her.

An Leumaire-rua[dh] at Holm
below Ru[bha]-thoirinnis. Then here the wom[an]
was left. There is a deep narrow channel
which a pers[on] might leap. The place
is full of limpets. The two women were
two sweethearts the man had. He mar[ried]
one & left the other & the mar[ried] one remained
on the rock till the first bhoinne
lionai & there[fore] was unable to leave
The man, mar[ried], the young girl & lived with
her till one day when she was milk[in]g
the cows she was sing[ing] this song
He over heard her & under[stood] how his first wife was
lost. He left her & never ret[urne]d.
The woman sat on the top of the rock
and comp[osed] the song while the other
sat opp[osite] her & learnt it from her.
Sin do chasa dhomh hug o
Sin do lamh dhomh
Hug o Cha sin cha sin hao u ri horo s beag mo
chas dhiot hugo
Thig an coite so maireach.
Iain bhig a hao sa naire
Chan iar[r] [th]u noc[hd] cioch do mhathar
This was a truthful song. The two wo[men]
& the man belonged to Ioc[hd]ar & both the man had been
courting. He mar[ried] one & the other resolved upon re-
venge.

The lyrics themselves are very truncated in this particular version which may reflect the fact that Carmichael had taken them down previously. Also, the song narrative would have been familiar not only the collector for this song and variations thereof were not only known throughout the Highlands and Islands but also in many parts of Ireland. Its geographic spread is probably a reflection of its popularity which remains to this day among Gaelic singers and musicians.

Reference:
CW150/59, ff. 33r–34v.
Image:
Hornish Point, South Uist / Rudha Thornais, Uibhist a Deas.

Tuesday, 24 May 2011

Song Narrative: Ailein Duinn a shiùbhlainn leat

A famous Gaelic song Ailein Duinn a shiùbhlainn leat (Brown-haired Allan, I would go with you) seems to have captured Alexander Carmichael’s imagination for he recorded around a half a dozen versions of it. One particular reciter from whom he got at least one version of this song was Kate Urquhart (1830–1927), Taransay, wife of Donald MacKinnon (the very same man who had guided Carmichael around the island). The following song narrative behind this tragic accident compares favourably with other versions that are scattered throughout many Gaelic journals and song anthologies. This note is also interspersed with some Campbell family history as, presumably, Anne Campbell, styled Annag nic Dhòmhnaill ’ic Iain Òig, was of this stock:

This song comp[osed] by An[n]a ni[c] Dho[mh]n[u]i[l]l ic Iain
Oig Chaimbeul. Iain Sheilebost was
the Duke of Argyle son cal[led] who came to Har[ris].
It was tho[ugh]t he and MacLeoids son kil[le]d a
young man at col[lege] & they ran here. He
was heir to the Duke his fath[er], but he nev[er]
went back. He went fr[om] Seilebost to Scapa
fr[om] which the Campbells of Scalpa came
The Camp[bells] of Strannd de[scended] fr[om] one
of the Barra breac fam[il]y who came to see
Iain Sheil[ebost] See here. Iain Sheile[bost]
came to Harris ab[ou]t 200 y[ea]rs ago.
The composer of the song was eng[aged] to a ship
Capt[ain] & had been drown[e]d near Scalpa or else
where. When she died soon after of a broken
heart she was to be bur[ied] at Rodail. On the
way thither the funeral boat kept close to land
The one cont[aining] the boy was furth[est] out & a storm
came which sever[ed] it fr[om] the rest They gave them
up for lost & set crainn which fell upon a dying
man An old man said We sill not throw
out the living till we throw out the dead.
They then threw out the corpse when it was
washed in again. They then took out the foot
end and all the body to slid[e] out when it w[en]t
to the bot[tom] & im[mediately] a dead calm en[sued] It was Miss
Camp[bell] own req[uest] that she sh[ou]ld be bur[ied] near
the place where he lover had been lost. She
was the dau[gh]t[er] of Don[ald] Camp[bell] who entertain[ed]
P[rince] Charlie.

References:
CW 116, fos. 2v–3r.
Carmina Gadelica, ii, p. 282.
Gillies, Anne Lorne, Gaelic Songs of Scotland (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2006), pp. 50–53.
Image: Scalpay, Harris © Copyright David Wake and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

Thursday, 20 January 2011

A Curious Old Song – II

Following on from the previous blog, the rest of the chapter offers not only a translation of the Gaelic song but also some musings about the piece from the pen of the Rev. Alexander Stewart. It may be assumed that the translation was undertaken by the minister who was no mean poet himself. Alexander Carmichael, not the least in the songs or poems that he offered for publication in newspapers and the like, tended to translate in a more literal manner.

It is impossible, perhaps, to give the full aroma of the quiet satire and humour of these verses in an English translation, even the most literal. One must be “to the manner born,” a Celt brought up amongst Celts, familiar with their domestic avocations, as well as with their speech and modes of thought, thoroughly to appreciate all that the poor wife-tormented wight suffered from the thrawn temper and stiff-neckedness of his uncompromising, termagant spouse. In the following jingle, however, the outsider has a tolerably fair rendering of a song that is certainly old and in many respects curious.


“THE THREE BROWN-BACKED BIRDS;” OR THE “WIFE THAT NOTHING COULD PLEASE.”


Chorus— “O, the three brown-backed birds,
The brown-backed birds, the brown-backed birds;
O, the three brown-backed birds,
The wale of birds I trow are the they!”


I.
“Black is white, and white is black,
(A quarrelsome wife is of woes the woe!)
If I assert that the raven is black,
She’ll swear it’s as white as the driven snow!


II.
“My wife she stings like a nettle top,
Crosser in grain than bramble or thorn;
Hotter than seven times heated fire,
With her loud bad tongue I’m shattered and torn.


III.
“If I build her a house on a good dry stance,
“With rafters and roof all tight and trig,
She says, with provoking gesture and sneer.
‘Was there e'er such a hovel—not fit for the pig!


IV.
“Well can I plough, and sow, and reap,
And build a corn-stack without bulge or hump,
But she'll vow and declare, ‘by her blameless life,’
That ‘’tis never a stack, but a shapeless lump!#


V.
“Well can I fish with hook and line,
Fish round and long, fish broad and flat,
When, hark ! from her lips, with her hands on her hips,
‘Such fish to be sure! give it all to the cat!’


VI.
“If I make a milk-cog of good hard wood,
That will stand on its bottom all steady and stieve,
She will swear by her soul, and by all she’s worth,
That the poor cog leaks like a very sieve!


VII.
“As well light a fire on the brown-ribbed sand,
For to dry a rock that is washed by the sea;
As well may you hammer a cold-iron bar,
As to make a bad wife all she ought to be.


VIII.
“Nought to the lake is the mallard's weight;
To the generous steed nought the weight of his rein;
Not worse is the sheep for its coat of wool
Nor can sense give any one trouble or pain.


Chorus—“O, the three brown-backed birds,
The brown-backed birds, the brown-backed birds;
O, the three brown-backed birds,
The wale of birds I trow are they!”


For very obvious reasons, no kind of poetry is so difficult to translate from one language into another as the comic or humorous and the satiric, and hence it is that literal renderings of such compositions are but rarely attempted, the loosest paraphrase being preferred even in justice to the original itself. The chorus or burden of the foregoing song seems to be only accidentally connected with the accompanying verses, probably, as is often the case, merely as the key-note to the air to which they are to be sung. It is manifestly the chorus of an older composition, probably also of the comic order, which, opportunely ringing in the ears of the hen-pecked bard, as he resolved to give vent to his grievances in song, he laid hold of and pressed for the nonce into his own service.

References:
CW107/18, fols. 23v–24v
Stewart, Rev. Alexander [Nether-Lochaber], ’Twixt Ben Nevis and Glencoe: The Natural History, Legends, and Folk-lore of the West Highlands (1885), pp. 119–23.
Image: A Couple Arguing

Wednesday, 19 January 2011

A Curious Old Song – I

As has been mentioned before in this blog Nether-Lochaber, or the Rev. Alexander Stewart (1829–1901) and Alexander Carmichael were old friends and corresponded with one another on a regular basis. Not a few of the traditions collected by Carmichael made there way into print via the astute eye of Nether as can be seen from Chapter XVII of Stewart’s book ’Twixt Ben Nevis and Glencoe: The Natural History, Legends, and Folk-lore of the West Highlands (1885). Although not mentioned by name, the woman from whom Carmichael recorded the song was Peigi Robasdan nighean Alasdair ’ic Amhlaidh (Margaret MacAulay née Robertson) also known as Peigi Sgitheanach (1821–1881):

From the Outer Hebrides our friend Mr. Carmichael sends us a song which he took down on the 10th March 1869 from the dictation of a cottar woman at Howmore, South Uist, a woman who, though in a lonely position, has a keen sense of the humorous and ludicrous.
The following is the song; we retain Mr. Carmichael’s orthography as being more in keeping with the Outer Hebrides pronunciation of many of the words :


“NA TRI EOIN CHRUINNE-GHEALA DHONN.”

Fann—“Na tri Eoin chruinne-gheala dhonn,
Chruinne-gheala dhonn, chruinne-gheala dhonn,
Na tri Eoin chruinne-gheala dhonn,
’S b’ iad sid na tri Eoin!

I.
“Is dubh am fionn sin, ’s dubh am fionn
Chaidh mi butarscionn mo bhean;
Ma their mise, ’s dubh am fitheach,
Their is' gum beil am fitheach geal


II.
“Tha bean agam mar an deantag,
Bean is crainnte na tom druis;
Bean is teogha na seachd teinteann
Bean chruaidh chainntidh mharbh i mis!


III.
“Thogain tigh air laraich luim,
Chairinn bonn ri maide cas,
Thigeadh ise 's car na ceann,
‘’S meirig a rachadh ann a steach.’


IV.
“Dhianain treothadh, dhianain buain,
Dhianain cruach mar fhear a chach,
Theireadh i mar bha i beo,
Nach robh ann ach torr air làr.


V.
“Dhianain iasgach leis an doradh,
Mharbhain langa, mharbhain sgat;
Chuireadh ise ’lamh na cliabh,
’S dh-iarradh i sid ’thoirt an chat!


VI.
“Dhianain cuman air fiodh cruaidh,
A shuidheadh gu buan air an làr;
Chuireadh i h-anam an geall,
Gun robh e ’call air a mhàs!


VII.
“Teinne ga fhadadh mu loch
Gu tiormachadh cloich an cuan,
Teagasg ga thoirt do mhnaoi bhuirb,
Mar bhuil’ uird air iarann fuar?


VIII.
“Cha truimeid an loch an lach,
Cha truimeide an t’ each a shrian,
Cha truimeid’ a chaora a h-olainn,
'S cha truimeid’ a choluinn ciall!


Fonn—“Na tri eoin chruinne-gheala dhonn,
Chruinne-gheala dhonn, chruinne-gheala dhonn,
Na tri eoin chruinne-gheala dhonn,
’S b’ iad sid na tri eoin!”

Carmichael appends a note about the song adding some interesting detail from whom and from where the reciter originally heard this piece:

Compos[ed] by a jealous wrangling pair.
Heard only once by the reciter when a girl.
Never heard it again. This was in Morar
at a wedding. Sung by a man.

References:
CW107/18, fols. 23v–24v
Stewart, Rev. Alexander [Nether-Lochaber], ’Twixt Ben Nevis and Glencoe: The Natural History, Legends, and Folk-lore of the West Highlands (1885), pp. 119–23.
Image: A Couple Arguing

Thursday, 1 July 2010

Tha Mo Rùn air a’ Ghille / I Love the Lad II

Dr Keith N. MacDonald – it may be recalled – was one of the foremost experts of his day on Highland music and was more than a competent player on the fiddle. As a regular correspondent to The Oban Times he contributed many articles (some of which would later appear in book form) about various aspects of Gaelic culture, ranging from songs and music to the Ossianic controversy (and he, like Alexander Carmichael, held a sympathetic view of James Macpherson). In this particular article Carmichael is name-checked again, and a couple of additional verses of Tha Mo Rùn air a’ Ghille have been appended. There is also an interesting background to the way in which Carmichael came by the song. With regard to the age of the actual song, MacDonald’s speculation looks rather quaint and probably well wide of the mark but it is interesting to see how such scholars (and, we may add, collectors) understood their material. Such glimpses are fairly rare. The article ends with a familiar rant where MacDonald bemoans the lack of collectors who were willing, able and ready to preserve the oral tradition of the Gael and that as a result so much had fallen by the wayside; an accusation that certainly could not be levelled at his good friend Alexander Carmichael.

As an instance of the antiquity of Gaelic music I find on extended search an enquiry that the opinion I have always held regarding this class of music is being gradually confirmed. Some months ago I published a version of the beautiful Gaelic song “Tha mo run air a’ Ghille,” composed by a daughter of the Chief of the Grants of Glenurquhart, for Donald Donn of Bohuntin, who was executed in 1692, making it at least 209 years old. Since then I have come across evidence to show that it is probably much older than the 17th century. Mr Alex. Carmichael, in sending me a couple of verses of the song not generally known, mentions that he got them from Captain Anderson, Saltcoats, a native of Lismore, whose maiden aunt, Isabella MacGregor, was the most beautiful singer of Gaelic songs he had ever heard. Not the nightingale, says Mr Carmichael, at its best, had a more sustained and beautiful voice than had Miss MacGregor. Melody was as natural to her as it is to the mavis of the rock, the merle of the brake, or the lark of the sky, and in his opinion the song under consideration is very old. “At the close of the interesting and instructive Pan-Celtic Congress in Dublin in August last the president of the Congress, Lord Castletown, invited several of the delegates to the Congress to Donevaile Court, his country seat in the county of Cork. Five branches of Celts were represented there–Breton, Welsh, Manx, Irish, and Alban Celts. At this delightful house party songs of the five different dialects of the Celtic were sung and played. Among those was “Tha mo rùn air a’ Ghille.” “That,” said a Breton present, “is a Breton air,” and he sang a verse of the song to the same air in his native dialect. He further remarked that his old uncle had the whole song, and that it was considered very ancient. It is interesting to know that this beautiful air is known in Brittany as well as in the Highlands of Scotland, probably the common heritage of both branches of the Gael. Now, the interesting question here is when did it come to Scotland, prior to, or within historic times. The fact of its having been a well-known and popular air in the Highlands more than 200 years ago shows that it had nothing to do with the ’45 period. Of course there has been some intercourse between the French and the Scottish people for many centuries, but the latter would be much more likely to bring over brandy and tobacco, than “Tha mo rùn air a’ Ghille.” On the other hand, it is very unlikely that the Bretons imported it from the Highlands of Scotland. The most likely solution is that it was brought over from Gaul by the early Celts, and probably long before Caesar’s invasion of Great Britain. Historians, antiquarians, and philologists have their various opinions regarding problems of this nature, but the one that fits best is the most natural. When Britain was first peopled we know not, but it is extremely probable that the original inhabitants came over from the neighbouring coast of France, and at a time when the Straits of Dover were much narrower than they are at the present day. The period has probably been so remote, that one can hardly risk reducing it to figures. It might have been three or then thousand years ago or more, but whatever the time may have been “Tha mo rùn air a’ Ghille,” in all human probability come over from the original habitants of Great Britain, so that the least age I can claim for it is something more than two thousand years. It is interesting in connection with this subject that upwards of five millions of people speak “Breig” in Britanny, and of songs and airs they seem to have a vast number. Two of the Breton gentlemen who were at Donevaile Court have collected more than nine hundred Breton airs, and, other Bretons are doing similar work. Mr Carmichael complains that those people are in advance of us in collecting the music and songs of their country, and sadly laments that hundreds, probably thousands, of Gaelic songs and Gaelic airs have died out or been killed during the last two centuries, and prays for an earthquake to shake up the dry bones of Highland apathy!

MR CARMICHAEL’S VERSES
Moire ’s mo ghaol am fiùran,
Mach à teaghlach Bhothionndain (Chilliondain),
Sealgair fèidh am beinn a’ bhùiridh,
’S eilid luth nan luath air.

Naile, ’s e mo ghràdh an t-òigear,
Aig am bheil a phearsa bhòidheach,
Fhir ’chul-dualaich chuachaich òrbhuidh,
’S fiamh an ròis ’ad ghruaidhean.

References:
MacDonald, Dr Keith N., ‘Music and Song’, The Oban Times, no. 2448 (26 Oct., 1901), p. 3

Image: Portrait of Dr Keith N. MacDonald from The Celtic Monthly.

Thursday, 24 June 2010

Every Song a Story – The Jealous Wife II

The previous blog gave different variations of the song narrative for A’ Bhean Eudach, or the Jealous Wife, as collected by Alexander Carmichael. Indeed, some elements of the song suggest it was something of a ballad. A' Bhean Eudach has been published many times before, but it may well be that the version offered here is among the oldest. As might be expected, the song text itself varies, just like the narrative behind it; again, this adds local colour to the song, for all these slight differences mark out the various areas where it was found throughout the Highlands and Islands and, it so happens, even in Ireland:



A bhean ud thall hùg ò
An cois na traghad hug o
Nach truagh leat fein hao ri ho rò
Bean ga bathadh hug ò


Nach truagh leat fein hùg ò
Clann gun mhathair hùg ò
Cha truagh cha truagh hao ri ho ro
S beag mo chas deth hùg ò


Sin do chas uat hug o
Sin do lamh dhomh hug o
No fiuch bheil agad hao ri ho ro
Buile shnamha hug o


No sin stamh domh
Mas e is f[h]ear[r] leat
Cha sin cah sin hor ir ho ro
O beag mo chail duit


Coisich air falbh
Us innis trath e
Dha mo bhrathrean
Dha mo chairdean


Cha b e [supra: an] an t-ainnis
Thug an traigh mi
An duileasg donn
No meud m ailleas


S i bhean iadaich
Rinn mo thaladh
'S a dh' fhag mis
An seo gam bhathadh


Ach thoir mo bheannachd
Gu mo chairdean
S beannachd air leth
Gu mo fhaisdean.


Fear diu bliadhna
'S fear a dha dhiu
'S fear eile
An aois a thalaidh


'S thus uain bhig
Gaol mo mhanrain
Iarraidh tu n nochd
Cioch do mhathair


Ach mu dh iarras
'S diamhan da sin
Bithidh iad luma
Lan de 'n t sala


References:
CW 152, fos. 41v-42v
Gillies, Anne Lorne, Songs of Gaelic Scotland (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2006), pp. 33–36
Image: Gathering Dulse

Monday, 21 June 2010

Every Song a Story – The Jealous Wife

The headline for this blog is a slight exaggeration, but nonetheless there is a strong tradition of song narratives in Gaelic culture and the ceilidh house, or any similar type of gathering, which would have provided an opportunity for the participants to discuss the finer nuances of just who composed a particular song or in which circumstances the song – whether a lullaby, a love song, a dirge or a lament – came to be. One of the most famous of Gaelic songs is A' Bhean Eudach, or the Jealous Wife, once widely known throughout Gaeldom and still popular among Gaelic singers to this day. It is unclear (so far) from whom Alexander Carmichael got the story, or rather stories, but it would appear that he is writing up an amalgam of different narratives from the many localities which claim the song to be their own. Each locality, of course, added its own local colour to the mix to give an air of authenticity. The story is basically the same for each place, although local variations have often been added:

A Bhean Iadaich



Eigg, Rum, Canna, Coll and Uibhist and
others of the Western Isles claim this song.
In Uist the scene is laid at Aird-a-mhachair
and the reef or rock is pointed out where
the unhappy woman was drowned. The
woman who decoyed the other woman
to the traigh dhuilisg – dulse shore is
said to have been the servant girl of the
house and who beacme enamoured of her
master. In Eigg the "bean iadach" –
jealous woman is said to have been
the sister of the wife who was drowned
The story of the drowning differs in
some slight details in the different islands.
The main features of the story are
these – The girl who coveted the
man got the woman to come
with her to the traigh dhuilisg – dulse
shore / ebb. The two women sat down
upon a tidal reef and the day being
warm and sultry the married woman
fell fast asleep while the watchful
girl crooned a taladh cadail – sleep-
ing lullaby. The girl as the story goes
tied strands of the womans hair to the
sea-weed upon the rock escaping her-
self before the rapidly flowing tide cut off her retreat When
the rising tide and the increasing waves
surrounded the sleeping woman she awoke
but awoke to find herself tied to the rock
and the tide already under her and round
her and her retreat cut off between the
rock on which she was and the shore. By the time the
woman got her hair untied from the sea-
weed the rock on which she was was al-
ready under the sea and the waves soon
washed her off the rock and into deep water
where she was drowned. When she went
home she told that they both fell asleep
under the heat of the sun and that when
they awoke their retreat was cut off – that
she got across le a beatha with her life
but that the woman was drowned.
The crime was discovered one day
sometime thereafter while the guilty
was grinding at the quern. The woman
was composing and singing the song
while he husband was listening near by.
Unknown to her the husband heard
the whole story.


References:
CW 152, fos. 40r–41v
Image: Gathering Dulse

Wednesday, 16 June 2010

Tha Mo Rùn air a’ Ghille / I Love the Lad

It may be recalled from a previous blog – the fiftieth one to be precise – that we discovered a voice recording of Alexander Carmichael singing a famous Gaelic song, Tha Mo Rùn air a’ Ghille. Dr Keith N. MacDonald, who was the subject of a previous blog, submitted an article about this very song to The Oban Times and gives an interesting background to the song’s composition. Carmichael is also name-checked for the song was apparently his ‘parlour’ piece and it would seem that no social occasion was complete without the well-known Liosach singing his favourite song:

In the majority of the older Gaelic songs it is impossible even to guess when they were first composed, without some clue of a historical nature, hence it is of importance to note such a clue when it does present itself. The above being one of the most lovely of our Gaelic melodies, it is well worth tracing it to its source if that is now possible. The following version of it may or may not be the earliest, but, at any rate, it can be traced as far back as 1692–that is 209 years ago, and even then it might have been an old song. It was composed by the laird of Grant’s daughter to Donald Donn poet and politician, who, we know, was executed in 1691 or 1692. This Donald Donn was of the house of Bohuntin and Aberarder, a branch of the MacDonalds of Keppoch, the second son of John MacDonald, 4th of Bohuntin, and uncle of Gilleasbuig na Ceapaich. He was in love with a daughter of the chief of the Grants, of Glenurquhart, but as the Grants opposed the match, the young couple planned an elopement. Donald, to be close at hand, hid himself in a cave on the north side of Lochness, near “Réilig Gharraidh.” Here he was to remain until Miss Grant was able to join him, but Donald’s secret retreat was betrayed to Miss Grant’s brother, who had him decoyed into a house, and subsequently disarmed and taken to Inverness where he was executed in 1692. Mr Alexander MacDonald, of Upper South River, Nona Scotia, to whom I am indebted for the words of the song, and himself a scion of the family of Bohuntin, informs me that he was not executed in the Grants’ country as generally supposed, in 1691, but at Inverness in 1692. There is no one now living who can sing this beautiful song so well as Mr Alexander Carmichael the author of “Carmina Gadelica,” with his superb natural tenor voice, and exquisite taste and feeling. Some of the Gaelic societies should certainly have this song as sung by Mr Carmichael gramophoned, for the benefit and admiration of future generations:



Tha Mo Run air a’ Ghille
That Youth I Love


Do Dhomhul Donn Mac Fhir Bhothiuntainn le nighean Tighearna Ghrannd. Bha dùil aige i so a phòsadh mur bhi gu’n deachaidh e féin ’s a h-athair a mach air a chéile.

CHORUS.– Tha mo rùn air a’ ghille,
                     ’S mòr mo dhùil ri tìm thilleadh,
                    ’S mi gu’n siùbhladh leat am fireach
                     Fo shileadh nam fuar-bheann.

Tha thu ’d mhac do fh-fhear Bhothiuntinn
’S mise neaghan Tighearna Ghrannda,
’S rachainn leat a null do’n Fhraing
Ged bhiodh mo chàirdean gruamach.


Tha mo rùn, etc.


Gur h-e m’ athair ’rinn an do-bheart.
Mise chumail gun do phòsadh
Shiùbhlainn leat ged b’ ann do’n Olaind
Ach do chòir a bhuannachd.


Tha mo rùn, etc.


Rachainn leat har chuan do dh-Eirinn,
Rachainn leat air chuairt do’n Eiphit,
’S aig a mheud ’s a thug mi spies dhuit
B’ eutrom orm an t-uallach.


Tha mo rùn, etc.


Nàil a ’s e mo cheist am fiùran
Dòmhnull Donn Mac Fhir Bothiunntinn
Fada is farsuinn a tha cliù
Air mùirnean nam ban uaisle.


Tha mo rùn, etc.


Nàil a ’s e mo ghaol an t-òig-fhear
Dòmhnull Donn an leadain bhòidhich
Tha thu ’n fhìne àrd gun fhòtus
Dòmhnullaich a’ chruadail


Tha mo rùn, etc.


’S iomadh nighneag a tha ’n tòir ort
Eadar Inbhirnis is Mòrair
Ged a bhiodh air crùn do stòras
Phòsadh anns an uair thu.


Tha mo rùn, etc.


Tha do phearsa cuimir dealbhach
’S math thig éididh dhut is armachd
Bu tu ’n curaidh treun neo-chearbach
Meanmach anns an tuasaid.


Tha mo rùn, etc.


’S math thig féile dhut ’s an fhasan,
Boineid ghorm is còta breacain
Osan gean is trì chuir ghartan
’S glas-lann air do chruachan.


Tha mo rùn, etc.


Cha ’n ’eil òganach cho ainmeile
Riut ’s a’ cheàrna so de dh-Albuinn
’S meirg a dhuisgeadh suas gu fearg thu


Tha mo rùn, etc.


Ged a gheibhinn-sa gu m’ òrdugh
Na tha dh’fhearann aig Diùc-Gordon,
’S mòr gu’m b’anns’ leam na stòras
Còir thoirt domh air m’ uaibhreach.


Tha mo rùn, etc.

Reference:
MacDonald, Dr Keith N., ‘The Age of “Tha Mo Run Air A’ Ghille.” (209 Years)’, The Oban Times, no. 2437 (12 Aug., 1901), p. 3, c. 2
Image: Portrait of Dr Keith N. MacDonald from The Celtic Monthly.

Friday, 21 May 2010

Early Sunday - Newspaper Letter

As with other collectors of oral traditions as well as scholars, Alexander Carmichael occasionally contributed pieces to The Highlander newspaper, founded by his friend and fellow Argyllshire Gael John Murdoch. Although Carmichael could in no way be described as a regular contributor to this newspaper, or any other newspaper for that matter, what he did publish was usually not without interest and was more often than not supplied with extensive background notes such as the one below concerning a song entitled ‘Mochra Domhnach’ or ‘Early Sunday’:

MOCHRA DOMHNACH
STRATHAVON, OBAN, 31st May, 1880

SIR, – The following poem, with music, was sent to the late Captain Donald Campbell when writing his book on the “Language, Poetry and Music of the Highland Clans.” It was not used, however – Captain Campbell having been able to publish but a small portion of the materials received from numerous friends and correspondents. This was a pity. Had he omitted things he inserted and given more of the music and lyric poetry, his book would, to my thinking, have been better.
Captain Campbell appointed his friend, new editor of The Highlander, his literary executor. It would be desirable that these poems should be published.
Of these there must be many. Of many Gaelic songs, with music, which, through the courtesy of friends, I had been able to send him, Captain Campbell was unable, from want of space, to give but one – “Buain an Rainich” – Cutting the Bracken. Other friends sent him similarly, and their contributions had to be similarly curtailed, if not altogether omitted.
Captain Campbell’s papers are still, I apprehend, in the house of his only surviving child – Mrs Brunton, Glasgow. The following will please most readers of The Highlander, as it pleased me. Upon one occasion Mrs Brunton found herself at a fashionable party where Highland music was spoken of with contumely. Her Highland blood was fairly roused: she whispered to her hostess, who, alone, knew that she was Highland, to ask her to sing, but to make no mention of Gaelic.
Mrs Brunton inherits, though, perhaps, not to so high a degree as her last sister – Mrs Lang, Port Glasgow – the fine musical ability of her father; and she sang, as she never sang before, the beautiful air of “Tir [recte Tri] nithe thig gu ’n iarraidh.” She held her audience spell-bound, and, when she was done, many of them crowded round to ask what it was – French? or German? though most thought it must be Italian? With a dignified bow, Mrs Brunton told them it was a Gaelic song!
The words of “Mochra Domhnach” were supplied by Mrs Mackerrel, Port Ellen, Islay; and the music was noted by Miss Mactavish, formerly of the Manse, Kildalton, and now of Knock, Mull.
Both words and music were got from Margaret Douglas, a decent old woman at Oa, Islay.
An accomplished musician and composer of Highland Music – Miss Macgrigor, of Oban – has kindly transcribed my clumsy copying of the music, and Miss Mactavish says that the music is correct.
To my uncultured ear, and partial Highland taste, the air is pretty; and I only hope that others may find it so.
The poem is new to me, and words and phrases occur therein, which I do not quite understand. I hope others may be more successful. In this hope, in the hope that Mr Hector Maclean of Islay, or others, may be able to throw light on the history and obscurity of the poem, I would deem it a favour if The Highlander would publish it.
ALEX. A. CARMICHAEL

Mochra Donmhnach, dh'fhalbh an t-oigear,
Dhol tha eolais a null an Spainn,
Cha robh e ari chois nach trath no dha,
’Nuair leag am bron e sio gu lar;
’S thug e ordugh ga shean eolach
A chridhe feola cur na small,
’S thoirt dhise an luib li tir
’S du bhi clisge roimh bhraid-sheimh

Bith’ mise liom fein mar ghlaisein air feur,
Mar faigh mi thu fein, cha bhi mi beo.
Ged a gheibhinn do spreigh na chunnt air feill,
B’ anns thu fein no co ceud bo,
O! lionar cnead am chridhe steach;
Do ghaol na beacaidh rinn mo leon,
Chuir e truimeid am cheud mailleid am cheum,
’S mi ruith leis a bheinn da leir iad bron.

O! saoil sibh fein, nach teachdar o ’n eug,
Thainig an raoir gu ’n fhiosd am shuain;
Mar aiteal nag rein air iomall nan speur
Nochd ’s i i fein air ghleus gu ’n uaill,
Is baine am folt tha cur sgeimh air a corp,
Na an sian daithte air dhreach an oir,
Basan caoin air dhreach an aoil,
’S gile ’taobh na sneachd nan lon.


Gach aon dual a tha na gruaig,
Air ’chireadh a nuas mar shido buadhaidh air or
Am fac na ’n cual thu, an caidre na cuach,
Na ’s binne ri luaidh na fuainn a beoil;
Cuir i a steach ann an seomar glaisde,
Oiche thais gheamhraidh thall
A geala bhroilleach ni solusd
Mar ghrein shoilleir a bhitheadh air allt.

'Nuair chaidh an t-oigear a chruineachadh bord,
Theann e na coir a mhias a b’ fhearr,
Ghabh i a leoir ’s chaidh is stor [?]
’S ghabh e da deoin na bha ’s a mheis,
Run beag og thu, miann nam ban posd thu,
Gabh do leoir ’s bithidh tu slan,
’S e cridhe do ghaoil a chuir e cho maoth,
Tha litir ri m’ thaobh a sgriobh a lamh.


Leugh i le aidmheil a beoil,
Bu lionan na deoir a sruthadh gu lar;
Thug in all a spain gheal, fein.
’Us ghadh gu leir nab ha ’s a mheis.
Mo ghradh am chri’; ’s mi slan na dheigh
An leomhann ur an robh mo mhiann
Biadh no deoch, cha teid am chorp
A chaoidh nan cros os cionn do chre

Within Carmichael’s papers there are at least two mentions of the ‘Mochra Domhnach’ and it seems that the version he sent to Captain Campbell was returned to him, perhaps after he had his letter published in The Highlander. There were a number of advantages of publishing such items not only for the sake of making them more widely available but also of generating interest from the public who often contributed further titbits of information or, as in some cases, sent in questions as a plea to find out more information about any particular subject that satisfied the criteria of The Highlander. Carmichael ends his letter by asking whether Hector MacLean would be able to throw more light on the song. It is not recorded whether MacLean every replied to Carmichael and, so far, it seems that he did not reply to The Highlander. Newspapers such as The Highlander are full of interesting snippets of information, sometimes that which is unavailable elsewhere, and even a cursory survey of them will reveal some previously hidden gems. Doubtless there are quite a few of these that remain to be found which Carmichael, in his moments of leisure, had sent to various Highland or Gaelic-related newspapers and journals.

References:
Carmichael, Alexander A. ‘Mochra Domhnach’, The Highlander, vol. VIII, no. 370 (11 June 1880), p. 6
CW379, fos. 1-12
CW244(122)

Image: Newspaper

Wednesday, 30 September 2009

Oiteagan á Tìr nan Òg

For some time the Carmichael Watson team have been intrigued by a mysterious 152-page manuscript bundle of Gaelic poetry whose author is only described in the catalogue as ‘a North Uist bard’. Julie Fowlis, one of the Sabhal Mòr Ostaig students who visited the project a few weeks ago, herself from North Uist, has kindly informed us that the author is in fact Ruairidh MacAoidh, mac an t-Saighdeir Ruaidh, or Roderick Mackay (1872–1949). In North Uist tradition MacAoidh is better known as Bàrd Iollairigh after the district where he lived, in the north of the island of Baile Sear/Baleshare on the west coast of North Uist. The bard’s work as clerk to the factor of the North Uist estate meant that he was a well-known – and apparently very popular! – figure in the island as he travelled from township to township collecting rent. This reminds us of the tax-gathering duties Alexander Carmichael had to carry out as part of his excise work. However unwelcome his arrival might be to locals, the occupation gave Carmichael an unrivalled opportunity to get to know the people of Uist and Barra, and for them to get to know him.

The bundle in the collection is the bard’s own poetry manuscript, published in Glasgow in 1938 as Oiteagan á Tìr nan Òg [‘Breezes from the Land of Youth’] under the auspices of the Uist and Barra Association. The bard’s original versions were lightly edited for spelling and grammar before publication by Hector MacDougall (1880–1954), the prolific Gaelic author from the Island of Coll. The manuscript came into the possession of Carmichael’s grandson James Carmichael Watson (1910–42), from whom it ended up in the Carmichael Watson Collection where it is catalogued as CW MS 211.

Although the manuscript may not add anything new to what we know of MacAoidh’s work, it draws our attention to a very skilful, vivid, and humane poet gifted with a remarkable command of language and a keen eye for the quirks of his fellow islanders and of island life.


References:
CW MS 211
Ruairidh MacAoidh, Oiteagan á Tìr nan Òg (Glasgow: Alexander MacLaren & Sons, 1938)
Ronald Black (ed.), An Tuil: Anthology of 20th Century Gaelic Verse (Edinburgh: Polygon, 1999), 724–5.
Images: Illeray, North Uist; CW MS 211 and the first song from Oiteagan á Tìr nan Òg

Stone whorls WHM 1992 13 2.4

Stone whorls WHM 1992 13 2.4
Stone whorls collected by Alexander Carmichael, held by West Highland Museum (ref. WHM 1992 13 2.4). [© carstenflieger.com]