I've heard this song from the Rankins, and just today found an English translation. I recognized the English version; I'd seen a variation on it elsewhere. The following is from http://www.ancliathclis.ca/cliath_66.htm, part of An Cliath Clis (http://www.ancliathclis.ca/songs.htm), a site for milling songs (what Cape Bretoners call waulking songs). Séist Hi ri u il agus o Mo chridhe trom, 's cha charaich e, Cha thaobh na caileagan mi, O 'n sheòl mi-fhìn 'nam mharaiche. An t-each ruadh aig Roland Steele, Gu'n cuir na biastan tachais ann, 'N uair a dh'ith e leth an fheòir, Cha dh'fhàg iad móran craiceann air. 'S eadar Nollaig 's a Bliadhna Ùr, A chaidh e null gu Garrett leis, Chuala e gu robh e turail, Air son a' bhruid examinagh. 'N uair a ràinig e an cùl, Cha d'rinn e fhiù as aithneachadh, Gu'n bhruidhinn e 's a' Bheurla, "Can I trade this animal?" "Gur e Finnigan cur an taobhs' mi, Cha 'n 'eil mi'n dùil do mhealladh leis, Cuir air ceithir crùidhean ùr, 'S mo rùn gu'n dean e tarruinn dhuit." 'N uair a thòisich e gu crùidheadh, Bit e 'n cùl a claigionn e, 'S an thuirt Roland ris gu dìombach, "Bhrùth thu air a spavin e" 'S an thuirt Garrett ris gu fiadhaich, "Cha do bhiadh thu ceart bho samhuinn e, Cha dèan e ach biadhadh fithich Tha na biastan damainte air. Teich dhachaigh leis gun dàil, Mu faigh làir 's a' searrach iad, Na faiceadh thu gu sìorruith bràth, A mach air braigh am baile agam." Gu robh caball aig na reins, Bha móran orr' do snaimeanan 'S cuip aige do wire o'n fheòir 'A 's straic e cnaimh na droma aige. 'N uair a ràinig e an stoir, Bha 'n t-each na lòn a falluis aig, Ach thuirt e ri Bessie as an stoir, "Lord how that horse was travelling". Gur e Hector bha gu crùidheadh, Sid a mhill na casan aig, G'an cuir air le tàirnean bata Gur h-ann a b'fhearr a dh'fhannadh iad. Sid far an robh am beathach lively Falbh a dhriveadh sgoilearan, 'N uair a ràinig e an Cobh Cha mhór bhitheadh ann air tòiseach air. Chorus Hi ri u il agus o My heart is sad, it's never stirred, The girls do not come near me, Since I've become a mariner. The red horse of Roland Steele's Was itchy from a plague of lice, While he ate up half his hay They'd leave but little of his skin. Between Christmas and New Year's He took him out to Garrett's place, He'd heard that he was skilful In treating sickly animals When the back-lands had been reached, He was not even recognized, Till he spoke up in English, "Can I trade this animal?" "It was Finnigan sent me here, I don't intend to cheat you now, If you'll put new shoes on him I'll warrant that he'll pull for you." When he started at the shoeing The horse bit him on the head, Then said Roland who was angry; "You hit him on the spavin." Spoke up Garrett very fiercely, "You have not fed him right since fall, He is only fit for crow bait And he is so damn'ed lousy." "Be off home with him at once Before they get my mare and colt, And never let me see you here Upon this farm of mine again." He used many cables for his reins With many knots to tie them up, The whip was made of hay-wire, He struck him on the back with it. When he raced up to the store The horse was in a pool of sweat Said he to Bessie in the store, "Lord, how that horse was travelling!" It was Hector used to shoe him, He's the one who spoiled his feet, For he shod the horse with boat nails So that they'd last a longer time. And he was a lively horse once Driving children to the school, When he came into the Cove There's none would be ahead of him.
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