According to Dick Gaughan, Scots is a separate language, not a dialect. I enjoy singing it in Scots. But I'd also like to have the song understood. I translated "Epie Morrie," which I also used to perform in crackling Scots, and when people could hear the story, they were on the edge of their seats. I really didn't think this was translatable, but y'all were so rude to the fellow's attempt earlier that I thought I'd take a pass at it. Well, a couple days' obsession. I'm happy with it, and expect Hamish would have appreciated it as well. I do understand why he wrote it in Scots, and that particular effect is lost, but there is more than that rendered in the song - the otherworldiness of performing ordinary activities under exhaustion and the threat of death. That to me is the heart of the song and its poetry, and I think it does translate here. Cheers folks, it's not as if you don't still have the original. THE 51st HIGHLAND DIVISION'S FAREWELL TO SICILY The piper is haunted, the piper is fey, He will not come round for his vino today. The sky o'er Messina is foreign and grey And all the bright chambers are eerie. Then fare well ye banks o' Sicily Fare ye well ye valley and shade. There's no Jock will mourn the hills o' ye Poor bloody bastards are weary. And fare well ye banks o' Sicily Fare ye well ye valley and shade. There's no home can cure the ills o' ye Poor bloody bastards are weary. Then down the stair and line the waterside Wait your turn, the ferry's away Down the stair and line the waterside All the bright chambers are eerie The drummer is polished, the drummer is shined He cannot be seen for his webbin's so fine He's spiffed himself up for a photo to sign To leave with his Lola, his dearie. Then fare well ye dives o' Sicily Fare ye well ye cottage and hall We'll all mind ye cowsheds and shanties Where kind signorinas were cheerie. And fare well ye dives o' Sicily Fare ye well ye cottage and hall We''ll all mind canteens and shanties Where Jock made a date with his dearie. Then tune the pipes and drub the tenor drum Leave your kit this side o' the wall Then tune the pipes and drub the tenor drum— All the bright chambers are eerie.
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