Cumha Mhic Criomain
Donald Ban MacCrimmon (Dòmnhull Bàn MacCruimein)La versione scozzese di Isla St Clair, da Mainly Norfolk: English... | |
MACCRIMMON'S LAMENT Around Coolin's peaks the mist is sailin; The banshee croons her note o wailin. (1) My own blue een wi sorrow is streamin (2) For him that shall never return, MacCrimmon. No more, no more, no more forever Shall love or gold bring back MacCrimmon. No more, no more, no more forever Shall love or gold bring back MacCrimmon. The breeze on the braes are mournfully moanin, (3) The brooks in the hollows are plaintively moanin. My own blue een wi sorrow are streamin For him that shall never return, MacCrimmon. No more, no more, no more forever Shall love or gold bring back MacCrimmon. No more, no more, no more forever Shall love or gold bring back MacCrimmon. MacLeod's withered flag from the grey castle sallies, The oars are unseated, unmoored are the galleys, Gleans war-axe and broadsword, clan target and quiver, For him that shall never return, MacCrimmon. No more, no more, no more forever Shall love or gold bring back MacCrimmon. No more, no more, no more forever Shall love or gold bring back MacCrimmon. | MACCRIMMON'S LAMENT A misty road unfolds round Coolin A dirge of woe the banshee is croonin (1) But my blue e'en they wail and seething (2) Since thou art gone and no returning. The breeze o'er the ben is gently stealing (3) As doon their braes the burnlets come creeping (4) (5) (6) Birds in high trees they wail and seething Since thou art gone and no restoring. O'er the doon at e'en your piping is silent Nor echoing hills in like replying My lover's fond kiss is fondly quieted Since thou art gone, for I, for ever. Cha till, cha till, cha till MacCrimmon (7) In peace nor in war return no never No treasure nor road shall bring MacCrimmon Till dawns the glad day that joins us ever. |
(2) e'en: eyes;
(3) braes: slopes.