Julie Fowlis - Oran Fir Heisgeir (Gura Mis' Tha Fo Mhighean) (The Song Of Fear Heisgeir) lyrics

Gura mis' tha fo mhìghean, 'S mi leam fhìn air a' chnoc, Fada, fada, bho m' chàirdean, Ann an àite ri port; Gus am facas do bhàta, Le siùil àrda ri dos, Tigh'nn a-steach chun na h-Àirde 'S mac an àrmainn air stoc. Mac an àrmainn air stiùir, A tigh'nn a dh' ionnsaidh an Troit; Gu bheil an caolas a' beucadh, 'S muir ag èirigh mu slait; Tha do làmh-sa cho gleusta, 'S nach do thrèig ise neart; Ged a thigeadh muir dubh-ghorm, Chuireadh sgùradh a-steach. 'S ged bhiodh cìosnachadh mar' ann, 'Bhuileadh barraibh a crann, 'Chuireadh dh' ionnsaigh a slat i, 'S luaithe h-astar na long; Bhiodh i aigeannach, aotrom, 'G èirigh eadar gach gleann, 'S muir a' bualadh mu darach, 'Fuasgladh reangan is lann. Bu tu sgiobair na fairge, Bu tu fear falmadair grinn, Gur tu b' urrainn a stiùireadh, 'Nuair a dhiùltadh iad i; Ged a bheireadh iad thairis, 'S iad na laighe 's an tuim, Chumadh tusa i cho gàireach, Gus an tàrradh i tìr. Chan eil aon rubha cladaich, Eadar seo 's a Chaoir-dhearg, Eadar Lìte 's gach cala, 'N dèanta fantainn neo falbh; Chan eil maighstir soithich, Chuala feothas do làimh, Nach bi faighneachd, 's a feòrach', Càite faighte do bhàt'. Iùbhrach àlainn, 's i fallainn, 'S i ri gabhail a' chuain, I ruith cho dìreach ri saighead, 'S gaoth na h-aghaidh gu cruaidh; Ged bhiodh stoirm chlacha'-meallain Ann, 's an cathadh a tuath, Nì Fear Heisgeir a gabhail Làmh nach athadh ro 'n stuaigh. Tha Fear Heisgeir a' tighinn; Bu tu ceann-uidhe nan ceud, Bu tu ceann-uidhe na cuideachd, 'S cha bu sgrubaire crìon; 'N àm ruighinn do bhaile, Seal mu 'n cromadh a' ghrian; Bu tu mac an deagh athair, Bha gu mathasach riamh. [Translation:] I am melancholy Alone on the hillock Far, far from my relations Stranded in this place. Till your ship was seen, Full sailed Coming in to the Aird Son of the hero on the gunwhale. Son of the hero at the helm Coming towards the Troit The waters of the straits are roaring The sea rising around her yards; Your hand is so sk**ed, She did not lose her strength Though the black blue sea Would scour over her. Though the seas were overpowering and tested the top of the mast And the sail yards Increasing the speed of the ship; She would be spirited, light, Rising between each glen Sea crashing her oak timbers Opening ribs and scales. You were the sea skipper You were the elegant helmsman You were the one who could steer When the rest refused; Though they were overcome Lying down in the bilge water You would keep her laughing Till she reached land. There's not a coastal point Between here and a' Chaoir-dhearg Between Leith and each harbour From which they anchored or sailed; There isn't a ship's master Who heard of your expertise Who isn't asking and enquiring Where your ship is to be found. Beautiful sound ship, Taking on the seas Sailing straight as an arrow Despite strong headwinds Though there was a hailstorm And snow from the north Fear Heisgeir will take it on And never falter in the face of rough seas. Fear Heisgeir is coming; You are the destination of hundreds You are the destination of the company Not a withered n***ard; On reaching your homestead A while before sunset You are the son of the good father Who was always benevolent.