lirik lagu the rankin family - oganaich an o-fhuilt bhuidhe - am braighe
rankin family
endless seasons
oganaich an o
-fhuilt bhuidhe – am braighe
(youth whose hair is golden yellow – the braes of margaree)
oganaich an o-fhuilt bhuide
leat a chinneadh sealg a’s sithionn;
‘s ann ad ghruaidh a bhiodh an rudha
‘n uair a bhiodh tu siubhal bheann!
‘n uiar a dhieadh tu na stucan
leis a ‘ghunna chaol nach diultadh
‘s i do luaidhe ghorm a’s d’fudar
chuireadh smuid air feadh nan gleann
na cnuic ‘s na glinn bu bhoidhche leinn
‘s iad cnuic is glinn a’bhraighidh
mu’n tric bha sinn ri maran binn
‘s a’ chomunn ghrinn a b’fhearr leinn
chan ‘eil ait’ an diugh fo’n ghre/in
‘s am b’fhearr leam fhe/in bhi tamhachd
na braigh’ na h-aibhne measg nan sonn
o’m faighte fuinn na gaidhlig
oganaich an o-fhuilt shniomhain
dh’fhag thu saca trom air m’inntinn;
‘s mur a till thu nall do ‘n tir so
mo thoil-inntinn bidh air chall
na cnuic ‘s na glinn bu bhoidhche leinn
‘s iad cnuic is glinn a’bhraighidh
mu’n tric bha sinn ri maran binn
‘s a’ chomunn ghrinn a b’fhearr leinn
gur binn leam ceol an h-aibhne mo/ir
‘s i falbh an gloir a h-ailleachd;
fhad’s bhios i gluasad sios le fuaim
cha toir mi fuath do’n bhraighidh
gu leir a bhla h air mo ghruaidhse
gu’n tug mi dhuit gaol nach fuaraich;
dh’innis iad gu’n d’thug thu fuath dhomh
ach cha chreid mi, luaidh, an cainnt
oganaich an o-fhuilt bhuide
leat a chinneadh sealg a’s sithionn;
‘s ann ad ghruaidh a bhiodh an rudha
‘n uair a bhiodh tu siubhal bheann!
oganaich an o-fhuilt bhuide
leat a chinneadh sealg a’s sithionn;
‘s ann ad ghruaidh a bhiodh an rudha
‘n uair a bhiodh tu siubhal bheann!
youth whose hair is golden yellow
you will bag the deer when hunting
on your cheeks the colour’s rising
when you tramp across the hills
when you climb up to the tall crags
with your slender trusty weapon
then your blue lead and gun powder
scatter smoke among the glens
the hills and dales most beautiful to us
are the hills and dales of the braes (margaree)
where we often sang
sweet melodies in the friendly company we liked best
there is no place today, under the sun
where i would prefer to live
in the braes of the river
amongst the heroes who were wont
to sing gaelic songs
sweet to me is the music of the great river
as it meanders amidst the glory of its beauty;
as long as it contiues to course to the sea
i will never hate the braes
it is showing in my cheeks now
that my truest love i gave you
they are saying that you hate me
but i don’t believe their talk
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