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NIS tha mis air tighinn dh’ ur duthaich
A dh’ urachadh dhuibh na Callaig;
Cha leig mi leas a dhol ga innse,
Bha i ann ri linn ar seanar.
Dirim ris an ardorus,
Teurnam ris an starsach,
Mo dhuan a ghabhail doigheil,
Modhail, moineil, maineil.
Caisean Callaig ’na mo phoca,
Is mor an ceo thig as an ealachd.
* * * *
Gheibh fear an taighe ’na dhorn e,
Cuiridh e shron anns an teallach;
Theid e deiseil air na paisdean,
Seachd ar air bean an taighe.
Bean an taighe is i is fhiach e,
Lamh a riarach oirnn na Callaig,
Sochair bheag a bhlath an t-samhraidh,
Tha mi ’n geall air leis an arain.
Tabhair duinn ma dh’ fhaodas,
Mar a faod na cum maill oirnn,
Mise gille Mhic De ’s an dorus,
Eirich fein is fosgail domh e. |
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I AM now come to your country,
To renew to you the Hogmanay,
I need not tell you of it,
It was in the time of our forefathers.
I ascend by the door lintel,
I descend by the doorstep,
I will sing my song becomingly,
Mannerly, slowly, mindfully.
The Hogmanay skin is in my pocket,
Great will be the smoke from it presently.
* * * *
The house-man will get it in his hand,
He will place its nose in the fire;
He will go sunwards round the babes,
And for seven verities round the housewife.
The housewife it is she who deserves it,
The hand to dispense to us the Hogmanay,
A small gift of the bloom of summer,
Much I wish it with the bread.
Give it to us if it be possible,
If you may not, do not detain us;
I am the servant of God's Son at the door,
Arise thyself and open to me. |
