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Fàgail Shiadair

William MacKenzie, Bàrd Cnoc Chusbaig, is one of Lewis’ best known bards and is an ancestor on my mother’s side. This song was composed shortly after the death of his beloved wife Màiri, ahead of his emigration to Canada. Heartbroken, he set sail for a new life but his thoughts remained with Màiri and Lewis.

Fàgail Shiadair air mo chasan

Thèid mi Mhallaig air a’ bhat’

‘S bheir an treine sinn a Ghlaschu

‘S gun dùil tighinn air ais gu bràth

 

Cha bhi dùil am tilleadh tuille

Ma thèid mi idir thar sàl

Tha falt mo chinn dhomh ag innse

Gu bheil mo thìde gu bhi ‘n àrd.

 

Chan fhaic mi na daoine chleachd mi

Chan fhaic mi sgadan no bata

Chan fhaic mi ann slige maoraich

‘S chan fhaic I faochag ann air tràigh

 

‘S chan fhaigh mi dubhan ann gu iasgach

‘S cha d’ thoir mi biathadh à tràigh

‘S chan fhaic mi either le seòl ann

rinn bi-beò a bh’ aig a’ bhàird

 

‘S ann a bhios mi measg nan craobhan

gach aon taobh dhiom iad ri fàs

‘S ged a dheanainn annta dìreadh

Chan fhaic mi ‘n tìr seo nam bàrr

Chan fhaicear leam Eilean Leòdhais

‘S chan fhaic mi ‘n t-Siumpan na h-Àirde

‘S chan fhaicear leam cladh na h-Aoide

Ged tha m’inntinn ann an sàs

 

Far na dh’ fhàg mi leth mo chride

Dh’ fhàg mi gille ann nach robh ceàrr

Dh’ fhàg mi ‘n aisne bha nam thaobh ann

Cnaimh bu dilse dhomh thar cach

 

Dh’ fhàg mi aon ann de m’ fhiaclan

Thug mi as mo bheul le cràdh

‘S e coltach gum biodh iomadh mile

Eadar i ‘s far ‘n cuirear càch

Walking through Shader as I leave

I'll head to Mallaig on the boat

From there the trainn will take us to Glasgow

Without ever expecting to return

 

I don't believe I will be back here

If I ever mange to even cross the ocean

The hair of my head tell me

That my time is almost up.

 

I wont see the people I used

I wont see the herring or a boat

I wont see any shellfish

Or a winkle on the shore

 

I wont get a hook to fish there

Nor take food from the shore

Neither will I see a boat with her sails

That was the livelihood of the bard.

 

For me I will be amongst the trees

On each side of me they'll grow

And even if I was to climb to them

I wouldn't see this land from their tops.

I wont see the Isle of Lewis

I wont see the Tiumpan of Aird

And I wont see the Eye Cemetry

Where my mind continually wonders. 

 

Where I left the other half of my heart

I left a son who was perfect

I left the rib from my side

More faithful than any other could be.

 

I left there one of my teeth

Which I painfully removed from my mouth

When it appears that there will be many miles

From she lies and where we will be.

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