I sent the music on to Joe.
MO SHORAIDH LEIS A' COIGICH
Farewell to Coigach
Murdo George MacLean, Montana USA, Circa 1910
This song was transcribed from the singing of Sandie Fraser of Achiltibuie. Murdo George (Mordaidh Sheorais) was just one of many Coigach men who went to Montana and Idaho, USA, in the years before World War One to work as shepherds, cattlemen and cowboys. This Coigach man realised his dream of returning to Scotland to marry and settle but others stayed to help settle the North American West. Some of these men returned to Europe only to die in the trenches in the Great War of 1914-1918. This song is totally unique and priceless and must be one of the few preserved songs written in Gaelic in the American West.'S ann a fhuair mi m'arach an taobh tuath de Alba Mhór,
Far 'm bheil beanntaichean tha fasgathach is gleanntanan gu-leoir,
Far 'm bheil chlann-nighean as bòidhche 's as finealta tha beò
Is truagh nach robh mi thall leò ged bhithinn gann de'n òr
Gura h-òg a bha mi a'd ìreadh mach nan stùc
Le mo bhata callainn 's le'm bhreacan tartan ùr
Is le mo chuilean ròmach a b'fheàrr chaidh riamh air sgrìlob
Is Màiri Ruadh gam' chàineadh le canain gun bhrigh.
Mo bheannachd mhór le Màiri bho'n 's i piuthar m' athar i,
B'aoibhneach a bhitheadh i's i feitheamh nochd rium fhé'
Ach 's duilich nochd's is cianail i, 's mi sgrìob a null air sàil,
'S mi còrr 's tri mìle mile bho Alba ghorm an fheòir.
Mo shoraidh leis a' Coigich 's le Beinne Mhór a' cheò,
Meall Dubh 'is Spicean Cointich far'n robh mi aotrom òg,
Tha chaora mhaol as bòidhche a' cromadh bàrr an fheòir,
Is buachlaichean le suain orra a' buachailleachd nan uan òg.
'S ann tha mi'n diugh nam chiòbair aig sàil nam beanntan mór,
Far 'm bheil madadh-allaidh 's leomhann is tiògairean go leòir,
Tha iad h-uile latha mu'n cuairt dhomh 's mi buachailleachd mo spréidh.
'S cha bhithinn fhéin glé shàbhailte gun mhusgaid bhi 'nam dhòrn.
An am dol fodha na gréine bithidh spréidh dol sios do'n chrò
'S bi mi fhéin a 'teàrnadh leò 's mi acarach gu leòir
Cha bhi bean-taigh cur furan orm no deasachadh mu'n bhòrd
Cha bhi a h-aon cur fàilt' orm, ach fàrdach bhàn gun cheò.
Bha mi 'n dé 's an aonach a'sealg air damh nan cròic
Co chithinn ach mo nàbuidh Aonghus Mór MacLeoid.
Is thug sinn greis air còmhradh mu'n tìr 's an robh sinn òg,
Is mu'n chlann-nighean as bòidhche nach diultadh dhuinn am pòg.
Nuair a thig an sàmhradh bith gach craobh is flùr fo bhlàth.
Is bithidh mi-fhéin a'smaointeachadh a dhol a rithis thar sàil,
Far 'm bi cairdean le aoibhneas toirt crathadh dhuinn de'n làmh,
'S ged chosgadh a bonn òrr dhuinn gun òladh sinn deoch slàint.
Ach n'uair a thig an geàmradh, bithidh srann aige is séisd.
Bithidh na buachaillean sàmhraidh dol gann air fortan fhéin.
'S na bailtean bios iad; lionmhor ag of deoch slainte chéil,
Ach 's arm bhios clann nan Gàidheal air mullach bheann is shléibh.
Tha còrr is seachd bliadhna le thriall mi as air falbh
'S a ghabh mi slàint le Alba, 's gach caraid innt' tha tàmh.
Is ged bu chruaidh an sàr a gun fhios an tillinn beò;
'S a chailin donn a dh'fhàg mi a sgàin mo chridhe le bròn.
O Eilean Alba dhomhsa seach cos tha fo'n a' ghréin',
Cha'n iarrainn òr no airgiod ann no fortan bhi da réir.
Ach dh'fhanainn fad mo latha ann le saoibhreas a bhiodh crion,
Le m' ribhinn mhaiseach bhòidheach a Eilean Dubh mo mhiann."GOODBYE TO COIGEACH "TRANSLATION BY SANDIE FRASER OF ACHILTIBUIE
I was reared in the North of Scotland
Where there are mountains sheltering many glens,
Where there are young women who are more beautiful and polite than women elsewhere,
Such a pity I was not now with them although I would be short of money.
I was very young when I used to climb the pinnacles
with my hazel walking stick and my new tartan plaid.
And with my rough-haired young dog, the best that ever rounded up the sheep tracks.
And red-haired Mary scolding me in language without substance.
My great blessings with Mary because she is my father's sister,
How joyful she would be waiting for me coming home at night,
But tonight she is sad and pensive while I am a long way across the sea.
More than twice three thousand miles from the green grass of Scotland.
My farewell to Coigeach and Ben Mor of the mists
With its outcrops of Spicean Cointich and Black Rock, cone-shaped.
I was young and light-looted where the bald sheep are bonny cropping the tips of the grass.
And shepherds, having forty winks, herding the young lambs.
Today I am a keeper at the foot of high mountains,
where there are wolves, tigers, and mountain lions (cougars) in great numbers.
They are around me every day while I herd my animals
And I would not be very safe without a musket in my hand.
At sunset, the cattle will make their way to the fold,
and I myself will accompany them and I am very hungry.
There will be no house wife to welcome me, preparing or setting the table
No one to welcome me except a grey fireplace without smoke.
Yesterday I was up the high mountains hunting the horned deer
Who should I meet but my neighbour tall Angus MacLeod.
We spent a while reminiscing on the land of our youth.,
and on the beautiful young girls who would not refuse our kisses.
When summer comes each tree and plant is in flower,
And I will be thinking I will cross the ocean again,
Where friends with gladness will he shaking our hands
And although it would cost us a gold piece We would drink their health.
But when winter comes in with snorting, like a place under siege,
The summer shepherds will be spending their fortunes,
Congregating in the town saloons, drinking to their health,
But the Children of the (;act will be on the high bens and hills.
There are more than seven years since I left my home,
And left good health to Scotland and all who live there.
And although the difficulties were stressful, and that I might not return alive,
What distressed me most was leaving my broken-hearted sweetheart.
Oh, for the Island of Scotland, for me above any place under the sun,
I would not need to have great silver or gold,
I would remain there, with little wealth,
with the beautiful young maiden from the Black Isle, of my desire.
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