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A’ Hò-rò Mu Dheire agus an t-Àm Ri Teachd - The Future and a Last Hurrah
A’ Hò-rò Mu Dheire agus an t-Àm Ri Teachd
Sgolt e e air muin an t-cistern, slighean geal far comhair
Mi fhèin ’s mo charaid, nota truist’ sinn deas am broinn an stàile
Loidhnichean fialaidh gan roinn eadar dithis
An club air bhoil am beus gar crith
Seo Dihaoine ’s Disathairne fad bliadhna no dhà
Coma leinn an t-aithreachas a mhaireadh gu Dimàirt
Suas leis an duslach, sguab às an càrn
Ach an e seo e, an e seo dha-rìribh na tha an dàn?
Chan e – ’s e seo, ma dh’fhaoidte, an trup mu dheire
Oir dh’eagraich mi mo phlana beatha
Cuiridh mi am baile mòr is a thaitneasan air chùl
Nì mise air a’ Ghàidhealtachd fàgaidh mi mo shaoghal
Dealaichear le caraidean a b’ aithne bhon an sgoil
Seo a dh’fheumar dèanamh gus m’ iomairt a chur gu dol
Tha gaol na tè gam tharraing suas a loch is garbh-chrìch
Ach cha bhean no leannan i mo ghràdh, ’s i teanga tùs ar tìr.
Suas e is suas e le acras agus sannt
Tha gaoireag ruith tro fhèith is chois, tiugnamaid a dhanns
Tha oidhche a’ dol na maidne ann am priobag bheag nan sùl
A dh’fhàs cho mòr ri gealaichean is sinn glacte anns an uaimh
Solas grèin a’ dalladh is gar breaba’ a bh’ anns an dubhar
Tha barrachd ann na seo a-nis, ’s i a’ Ghàidhlig mo bheatha ùr
“Cumaidh sinn an touch, a laoich”, a’ fàgail slàn le Iain còir
Ach teansa gur e seo a’ chrìoch air dàimhean a’ bhaile mhòir
Na caoidh airson an fhògraich, na gabh truas air mo shon
Chan ionndrainn mi am baile mòr, cha robh mi ann ach seal
Am beàrn a bha nam shaoghal-sa nach d’ fhuair sinn riamh san sgoil
Lìonar e le Gàidhlig ghrinn, ar n-eachdraidh is ar ceòl
Cuireamaid ar crìoch a-nis air an fhrith-rathad gheal mar sròin
Sguabar às gach creagag bhàn a chuireas sinn air bhoil
Is fàgaidh mi mo shoraidh slàn ceann là no ’s dòcha dhà
Nì balach gallda air Innse Gall, an dèidh seo, mo shoraidh slàn.
The Future and A Last Hurrah
He chopped it up upon the cistern, paths of gleaming white
Myself and a pal, notes rolled up inside the stall
Generous lines carved up
The club heaving and the muffled bass pounding
This has been my Friday and Saturday for a year or two
To hell with the hangover of regret that lasts till Tuesday
Up with the dust, guzzle up the heap
But is this really it, is this what’s to be?
No – this is, quite probably, my last hurrah
I’ve been preparing an alternative life plan
I will put behind me the city and its charms
I’m making for the Highlands for a different kind of life
I will part from friends I’ve known from school
But that’s what it will take to get my project off the ground
Her love is pulling me up to loch and hill and moor
But she is not a woman or a lover but my country’s ancestral tongue
Up with it, up with it, with a greed and hunger
A tingling runs through veins and feet, I have to dance
Night becomes day in the blink of our eyes
That grew as big as planets while we were down in the cave
Sunlight blinding and thumping the creatures of the dark
There’s more to life than this, my new life is a Gaelic one
“We’ll keep in touch, bud”, saying farewell to John
But this could be the end of friendships made in town
No laments for the exile, don’t feel sorry for me
I won’t miss the city, I was only there for a while
The void in my life that we never got at home, in school
Will be filled with Gaelic, our history and our song
Let’s finish it together the white mountain track below
Hoover up every pale rock that sends us into artificial bliss
Then I’ll say my goodbyes in a day, or maybe two
The lowland boy heads to the Hebrides, after this, my last hurrah.