The song is published in:
The Gaelic Songster: An t-oranaiche, by Archibald Sinclair, 1879, pp.491-493.

It was written by Norman Nicolson (1798-1841) about 1825 just before he left Skye for New Brunswick in Canada.


'S Gann Gu 'n Dìrich Mi Chaoidh


Seist:
'S gann gu 'n dìrich mi chaoidh,
Dh' ionnsuidh frìthean a' mhonaidh,
'S gann gu 'n dìrich mi chaoidh.

1
Thàinig litir à Dun-Eideann
Nach faodainn fhèin nis dol do 'n mhonadh,

2
Pàdruig Mòr an Ceann-Loch-Aoinard,
Rinn e 'n fhoill 's cha d' rinn e buinnig.

3
Tha mo ghunna caol air meirgeadh,
Cha tèid mi do 'n t-sheilg leis tuille.

4
Thèid a chrochadh air na tàirngnean,
'S cha b' e sin leam 'àite fuireach.

5
'S ioma latha sgìth a bha mi,
'N àm shuidhe leis 's e làn, air tulaich.

6
Gabhail sealladh air na slèibhtean,
Far am bi na fèidh a' fuireach.

7
Far am bi 'n damh 's a chùl brùite,
'N uair rachainn-sa le m' rùn air m' uilinn.

8
'S tric a mharbh mi fiadh nan stùchd-bheann
Air mo ghluin 's mi lùbadh m' uilinn.

9
Mar a biodh bràthair mo mhàthar,
Bhiodh fiadh nan àrd-bheann a's fuil air.

10
Ach o'n dh' fhàs an lagh cho làidir,
'S fheàrr bhi sàbhailt' o gach cunnart.

11
Na 'm biodh mo chrodh-laoigh air buaile,
Dh' fhaodainn luaidh' a chur à gunna.

12
Ach a nis gur fheudar strìochdadh,
'S fear gun chiall a thèid an cunnart.

13
Fhuair mi litir 'o na h-uaislean,
Nach fhaodainn luaidh' a chur à gunna,

14
'S iomadh latha bha sinn còmhla,
Is mo làmh gu fòil mu mhuineal.

15
Bhon a chiad la fhuair mi còir air,
B' e mo shòlas is mo chuideachd

16
Fàgaidh mi an nis an tir so
Cha'n fhaigh m'inntinn sith innt' tuilleadh.

17
Bheir mi 'n ruaig so do na h-Innsean
Feuch an dean mi fhèin ann buinnig.

18
Cha 'n fhaic Pàdruig mi air fàireadh,
'S cha chluinn e stàiririch mo ghunna.



"I May Never Climb Again"

Chorus:
I may never climb again
To the deer forests on the high moor,
I may never climb again.

1
A letter arrived from Edinburgh,
Saying that I could no longer go to the hill.

2
Big Peter from Kinlocheinard,
He did wrong but did not gain by it.

3
My slim-barrelled gun is rusted,
I will not go to hunt with it again.

4
It is hanging on nails,
Not to me the best place for it.

5
Many a day I was weary,
Sitting with it loaded, on a hillock.

6
Taking a view of the mountains,
Where the deer live.

7
The stag would have a broken back,
When I aimed leaning on my elbow.

8
I often killed deer in the mountains,
On my knees with bended elbow.

9
If it were not for the brother of my mother,
The dear of the high hills would be bloodied.

10
But since the law has become so strict,
It is better to be safe from every danger.

11
If my cattle were in the fold,
I cannot shoot lead out of a gun.

12
But now I must comply,
It is a foolish man who would court danger.

13
I received a letter from the nobles,
That I cannot shoot lead out of a gun.

14
Many a day we were together,
My hand gently around the neck (of the gun).

15
From the first day I got it right,
It was my happiness and my company.

16
I will now leave this land,
My mind will never find peace in her again.

17
I'll have to go now to the Indies,
See if I can make myself gain there.

18
Peter will see me no more upon the horizon,
Nor will he hear the report of my gun.

.