An T-Aparan Goirid 's An T-Aparan Ùr: Òran Do Sheasaidh Bhaile Raghnaill Lyrics

Artist : FOWLIS, JULIE
Album : Cuilidh
[An t‑Aparan Goirid ’s an t‑Aparan Ùr: Òran do Sheasaidh Bhaile Raghnaill]
An t-aparan goirid ’s an t-aparan ùr,
An t-aparan goirid nach ruig ach a’ ghlùin,
’S nuair bha mi òg ’s mi furast’ rim lùb’,
’S e dh’fhàg mi fo leòn ach an t-aparan ùr.

Bha cliù ort, a Sheasaidh, ’s tu ’n ainnir bha suairc,
A chumadh rid ghealladh ’s a leanadh rid luaidh;
’S ann unnad bha ’n spiorad, ’s tu ’chinneadh nam buadh
Nach gabhadh an giorag ’s nach tilleadh ron chuan.

’S ann ort a bha biùthas san dùthaich a bh’ ann:
Cha ghabhadh tu Cooper, cha b’ bhuidh’ leat a chainnt;
’S ann bha thu nad bhiùtaidh, ’s tu ’m flùr gun mheang,
’S nam faighinn mo dhùrachd, bhiodh diùc leat air làimh.

’S nuair fhuair an Eliza Miss Jessie air bòrd,
’S ann oirre bha ’n sgoinn ’s iad a’ hoidhsteadh nan seòl;
Bha muir air gach taobh dhith a’ sgaoileadh mu bòrd
’S bha h‑aigne cho aotrom ri faoileag air lòn.

Bha seorsa duine aca mach air a’ watch
A’ geàrd a’ bhaile ’s na thigeadh mun cuairt,
Ach cheangaileadh a chasan ’s a làmhan gu cruaidh,
’S mun tàinig a’ mhadainn, chaidh a ragadh le fuachd.

Dh’fhàg thu do mhàthair is d’ athair fo leòn
Nach d’ rinn iad dhut banais le aighear ’s le ceòl,
Ach tillidh tu fhathast do dh’Uibhist an eòrn’,
’S bidh siùcar an glainne ’s todaidh ga òl!

[The Short Apron and the New Apron: Song for Jessie of Balranald]
The short apron and the new apron;
the short apron which only reaches the knee
When I was young and easily led
the new apron was the cause of my hurt.

You were famous, Jessie, as a polite young woman
who would keep your word and be faithful to your beloved.
How spirited you were, a descendant of the truly virtuous clan,
which knew not fear and for whom the sea held no dread.

You became famous in the area.
You wouldn’t entertain Cooper; you cared not for his conversation.
What a beauty you were, a flower without blemish,
and had I my wish, a duke would have you by the hand.

When Miss Jessie boarded the Eliza,
there was a flurry of activity as the sails were hoisted.
The sea was parting for her bow
and her spirit was as light-hearted as a seagull.

They had a kind of man on watch,
guarding the village and all who approached.
But his feet and hands were tightly bound and,
by morning, he had stiffened with the cold.

You left your mother and father depressed
because they were unable to provide for you a wedding with music and merry-making.
But you’ll return some time to Uist of the barley
and there will be sugar in glasses for drinking toddies!