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.