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FUIDHEAGAN no corr do shnath
Cha do chum ’s cha chum mo lamh.
Gach dath a ta ’s a bhogha-fhrois
Chaidh troimh mo mheoirean fo na chrois,
Geal is dubh, dearg is madar,
Uaine, ciar-ghlas, agus sgarlaid,
Gorm, is grisionn ’s dath na caorach,
’S caoibean cha robh dhith air aodach.
Guidhim Bride bith na faolachd,
Guidhim Muire min na gaolachd,
Guidhim Iosa Criosd na daonnachd,
Gun mi fein dhol eug a ’n aonais,
Gun mi fein dhol eug a ’n aonais. |
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THRUMS nor odds of thread
My hand never kept, nor shall keep,
Every colour in the bow of the shower
Has gone through my fingers beneath the cross,
White and black, red and madder,
Green, dark grey, and scarlet,
Blue, and roan, and colour of the sheep,
And never a particle of cloth was wanting.
I beseech calm Bride the generous,
I beseech mild Mary the loving,
I beseech Christ Jesu the humane,
That I may not die without them,
That I may not die without them. |