Текст и слова песни Rankin Family – O\ganaich an O\r-fhuilt Bhuidhe - am Bra\ighe
O\ganaich an o\r-fhuilt bhuide,
Leat a chinneadh sealg a's sithionn;
'S ann ad ghruaidh a bhiodh an rudha,
'N uair a bhiodh tu siubhal bheann!
'N uiar a dhi\readh tu na stu\can
Leis a 'ghunna chaol nach di\ultadh,
'S i do luaidhe ghorm a's d'fu\dar,
Chuireadh smu\id air feadh nan gleann.
Na cnuic 's na glinn bu bho\idhche leinn,
'S iad cnuic is glinn a'Bhra\ighidh,
Mu'n tric bha sinn ri ma\nran binn,
'S a' chomunn ghrinn a b'fhearr leinn
Chan 'eil a\it' an diugh fo'n ghre/in,
'S am b'fhearr leam fhe/in bhi ta\mhachd
Na Bra\igh' na h-Aibhne measg nan sonn
O'm faighte fuinn na Ga\idhlig.
O\ganaich an o\r-fhuilt shniomhain,
Dh'fhag thu saca trom air m'inntinn;
'S mur a till thu nall do 'n tir so,
Mo thoil-inntinn bidh air chall.
Na cnuic 's na glinn bu bho\idhche leinn,
'S iad cnuic is glinn a'Bhra\ighidh,
Mu'n tric bha sinn ri ma\nran binn,
'S a' chomunn ghrinn a b'fhearr leinn
Gur binn leam ceo\l an h-aibhne mo/ir,
'S i falbh an glo\ir a h-a\illeachd;
Fhad's bhios i gluasad sios le fuaim,
Cha toir mi fuath do'n Bhra\ighidh.
Gu leir a bhla\th air mo ghruaidhse,
Gu'n tug mi dhuit gaol nach fuaraich;
Dh'innis iad gu'n d'thug thu fuath dhomh,
Ach cha chreid mi, luaidh, an cainnt.
O\ganaich an o\r-fhuilt bhuide,
Leat a chinneadh sealg a's sithionn;
'S ann ad ghruaidh a bhiodh an rudha,
'N uair a bhiodh tu siubhal bheann!
O\ganaich an o\r-fhuilt bhuide,
Leat a chinneadh sealg a's sithionn;
'S ann ad ghruaidh a bhiodh an rudha,
'N uair a bhiodh tu siubhal bheann!
Youth whose hair is golden yellow
You will bag the deer when hunting
On your cheeks the colour's rising
When you tramp across the hills
When you climb up to the tall crags
With your slender trusty weapon
Then your blue lead and gun powder
Scatter smoke among the glens
The hills and dales most beautiful to us
Are the hills and dales of the Braes (Margaree),
Where we often sang
Sweet melodies in the friendly company we liked best.
There is no place today, under the sun,
Where I would prefer to live
In the Braes of the river
Amongst the heroes who were wont
To sing Gaelic songs.
Sweet to me is the music of the great river
As it meanders amidst the glory of its beauty;
As long as it contiues to course to the sea
I will never hate the Braes.
It is showing in my cheeks now
That my truest love I gave you
They are saying that you hate me
But I don't believe their talk.
Leat a chinneadh sealg a's sithionn;
'S ann ad ghruaidh a bhiodh an rudha,
'N uair a bhiodh tu siubhal bheann!
'N uiar a dhi\readh tu na stu\can
Leis a 'ghunna chaol nach di\ultadh,
'S i do luaidhe ghorm a's d'fu\dar,
Chuireadh smu\id air feadh nan gleann.
Na cnuic 's na glinn bu bho\idhche leinn,
'S iad cnuic is glinn a'Bhra\ighidh,
Mu'n tric bha sinn ri ma\nran binn,
'S a' chomunn ghrinn a b'fhearr leinn
Chan 'eil a\it' an diugh fo'n ghre/in,
'S am b'fhearr leam fhe/in bhi ta\mhachd
Na Bra\igh' na h-Aibhne measg nan sonn
O'm faighte fuinn na Ga\idhlig.
O\ganaich an o\r-fhuilt shniomhain,
Dh'fhag thu saca trom air m'inntinn;
'S mur a till thu nall do 'n tir so,
Mo thoil-inntinn bidh air chall.
Na cnuic 's na glinn bu bho\idhche leinn,
'S iad cnuic is glinn a'Bhra\ighidh,
Mu'n tric bha sinn ri ma\nran binn,
'S a' chomunn ghrinn a b'fhearr leinn
Gur binn leam ceo\l an h-aibhne mo/ir,
'S i falbh an glo\ir a h-a\illeachd;
Fhad's bhios i gluasad sios le fuaim,
Cha toir mi fuath do'n Bhra\ighidh.
Gu leir a bhla\th air mo ghruaidhse,
Gu'n tug mi dhuit gaol nach fuaraich;
Dh'innis iad gu'n d'thug thu fuath dhomh,
Ach cha chreid mi, luaidh, an cainnt.
O\ganaich an o\r-fhuilt bhuide,
Leat a chinneadh sealg a's sithionn;
'S ann ad ghruaidh a bhiodh an rudha,
'N uair a bhiodh tu siubhal bheann!
O\ganaich an o\r-fhuilt bhuide,
Leat a chinneadh sealg a's sithionn;
'S ann ad ghruaidh a bhiodh an rudha,
'N uair a bhiodh tu siubhal bheann!
Youth whose hair is golden yellow
You will bag the deer when hunting
On your cheeks the colour's rising
When you tramp across the hills
When you climb up to the tall crags
With your slender trusty weapon
Then your blue lead and gun powder
Scatter smoke among the glens
The hills and dales most beautiful to us
Are the hills and dales of the Braes (Margaree),
Where we often sang
Sweet melodies in the friendly company we liked best.
There is no place today, under the sun,
Where I would prefer to live
In the Braes of the river
Amongst the heroes who were wont
To sing Gaelic songs.
Sweet to me is the music of the great river
As it meanders amidst the glory of its beauty;
As long as it contiues to course to the sea
I will never hate the Braes.
It is showing in my cheeks now
That my truest love I gave you
They are saying that you hate me
But I don't believe their talk.
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