Song written by John Cameron (Iain Camshroin) from Ballachulish, in 1856.

Originally titled "Dùil ri Baile-Chaolais fhaicinn" (Hoping to see Ballachulish).

Published in The Gaelic Songster (An t-Oranaiche), by Archibald Sinclair, 1879, pp. 329-330.

Sinclair notes that it was written on the first day of autumn, 1856.
To the air "Johnny Stays Long At The Fair".


"Dùil ri Baile-Chaolais fhaicinn"

Sèist:
O Chi, chi mi na mor-bheannaibh;
O Chi, chi mi na cor-bheannaibh;
O Chi, chi mi na coireachan ---
Chi mi na sgoraibh fo cheò.

1
Chi mi gun dàil an t-àit' 's d' rugadh mi,
Cuirear orm fàilt' 's a' chainnt a thuigeas mi;
Gheibh mi ann aoidh a's gràdh 'n uair ruigeam
Nach reicinn air tunnachan òir.

2
Chi mi a' ghrian an liath nam flaitheanas,
Chi mi 's an iar a ciar 'n uair luidheas i;
Cha 'n ionnan 's mar tha i ghnàth 's a' bhaile so
'N deatach a' falach a glòir.

3
Gheibh mi ann ceòl bho eòin na Duthaige,
Ged a tha 'n t-àm thar àm na cuthaige,
Tha smeòraichean ann is annsa guth leam
Na pìob, no fiodhal mar cheòl.

4
Gheibh mi le lìontan iasgach sgadain ann,
Gheibh mi le iarraidh bric a's bradain ann;
Na'm faighinn mo mhiann 's ann ann a stadainn,
'S ann ann is fhaid' bhithinn beò.

5
Chi mi ann coilltean, chi mi ann doireachan,
Chi mi ann màghan bàn' is torraiche,
Chi mi na féidh air làr nan coireachan,
Falaicht' an trusgan do cheò.

6
Beanntaichean àrd' is àillidh leachdainnean,
Sluagh ann an còmhnuidh 's còire cleachdainnean,
'S aotram mo cheum a' leum g'am faicinn,
A's fanaidh mi tachdan le deòin.

7
Fàgaidh mi ùpraid, sùrd, a's glagaraich,
Dh'fhaicinn na tìr an cluinnt' a' chagaraich,
Fàgaidh mi cùirtean dùinte, salach,
A dh'amharc air gleannaibh nam bò.

8
Fàilt' air na gorm-mheallaibh, tholmach, thulachanach,
Fàilt' air na còrr-bheanna mòra, mullanach,
Fàilt' air na coilltean, fàilt' air na h-uile,
O! 's sona bhi 'fuireach 'n an còir.



"Hoping to see Ballachulish"

Chorus:
O I see, I see the big mountains;
O I see, I see the peaked mountains;
O I see, I see the corries ---
I see the mist-covered peaks.

1
I will soon see the place where I was born,
I will be greeted in a language I understand;
I will receive hospitality and love there when I arrive,
That I would not trade for tons of gold.

2
I see the sun in the grey of the heavens,
I see in the west her grey dusk when she sets;
It is not the same as usual in this town,
The smoke hides its glory.

3
There I shall get music from the birds of the Homeland,
Although it is past the time of the cuckoo,
There are mavis there whose voices I prefer,
To pipes, or a fiddle as music.

4
I can get herring and fishing nets there,
I can get trout and salmon by asking;
If I were to get my desire it's there I would stay,
That's where I would live the longest.

5
I see there woods, I see there groves,
I see there fair and fertile fields,
I see the deer on the floor of the corries,
Hidden in a shroud of mist.

6
High mountains and beautiful slopes,
The people there always with fair customs,
Light is my step leaping to see them,
And I will stay for a while willingly.

7
I will leave tumult, commotion, and clatter,
To see the land where the whisper can be heard,
I will leave the closed, dirty courts,
To view the glens of cattle.

8
Welcome to the blue hills, knolls, hillocks,
Welcome to the great, rugged peaks,
Welcome to the woods, welcome to all,
Oh! It's happy to be living near them.



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