"Be brave and joyful
Hopeful and cheerful
And put your trust
In the help of the High King
Because you must sail
(Though it's not of your own will)
To a kingdom you don't know
As your kin have already...

Because they won't let you live
In the land that you know.
It is better you leave of your own will
Than be kept down like slaves
These are the idiotic landlords
Who scattered you to the winds -
And broke the neck of King George
When the Gaels were expelled !"


ORAN DO NA FOGARRAICH

Togaibh misneachd us solas,
Bithibh inntinneach ceòlmhor,
Agus cuiribh 'ur dòchas
Ann an còmhnadh an Ard-Righ
O'n is eadar dhuibh seòladh,
'Us nach ann do 'ur deoin e,
Do 'n rìogheachd nach eol duibh,
Mar a thòisich 'ur càirdean.

O nach fuiling iad beo sibh,
Ann an criochaibh 'ur n-eòlais,
'S feàrr dhuibh falbh do 'ur deoin,
Na bhi fòdha mar thràillean
'S iad na h-uachdarain ghòrach,
A chuir fuaradh fo 'r srònaibh,
A bhris muineal righ Deorsa,
Nuair a dh' fhògradh na Gàidheil.

Ma thig cogadh 'us creachan,
Mar is minic a thachair,
'S ann a bhios sibh n ur starsaich,
Fo chasaibh ur nàmhaid ;
Tha sibh soirbh ri bhur casgairt
'S gun neach ann gum bacail,
Tha bhur guaillean gun tacsa,
'S na gaisgich 'g 'ur fàgail.
Righ ! gur sgiolta ri 'm faicinn,
'N a seasamh air faithche,
Le 'n aodaichean gasda
De bhreacanan càrnaid,
'N a' dh' fhalbh uaibh an ceart uair,
De dh' òganaich dhreachmhor,
Gun truailleadh, gun ghaiseadh,
Gun taise gun tàire.

Thug siud sgriob air Mac Dhòmhnuill,
Thug e spùilleadh air Mòrar,
Thug e liomadh air Cnòideart,
Agus leòn air Clann Ràghnaill ;
Falbh nam fear mòra
Falbh nam fear òga,
Agus falbh nam fear crodha,
'N àm na tòrachd a phàigheadh.
Bi Cinn-chinnidh 'n an ònar,
'S an slinnean gun chòmhdach,
Gun treise gun chòmhnadh,
'N uair thig fòirneart an làthair
Bi 'ur nàimhdean gu sporsail,
'G 'ur stampadh fo 'm brògan,
Luchd fòirneart gu treòrach',
Gun neach beò gus an àicheadh.

'S truagh an gnothach ri smaoineach
Tha'm fearann 'ga dhaoradh,
'Na' dh' fhalbh dhe 'n cuid dhaoine,
Thàinig caoirich 'nan aite.
'S lag an sluagh 's gur a faoin iad,
Dol an carraid no 'n caonnaig,
Làn bracsaidh 's chaoile,
'S iad fo dhraoidh ghille Màirtin.
Cha dean smiùradh 'ur saoradh,
'N làthair batail air raonaibh,
No fead ciobair an aonaich,
Gur e caochladh 'ur n-ànraidh :
'S ged a chruinneacheadh sibh caogad,
Mholt 'us reithichean maola,
'S beag a thogadh a h-aon diu,
Claidheamh faobharrach stàilinn.

Ciod e'm fàth dhomh bhi 'g innse,
Gu 'n d' fhàs sibh cho mìothar,
'S gun spothadh sibh frìde,
Far an dìreadh i fàrdain ?
Dh'fhalbh na ceannardan mìleant',
Dh' an robh sannt air an fhìrinn,
Agus geall air an dìllsean,
Agus cuing air a' nàmhaid.
Air an tuath bha iad cuimhneach,
'S cha b' ann gus an sgriobadh,
Gu 'm biodh bantraichean 's dìleachdain,
Dìolta gu saoibhir ;
Biodh gach truaghan gun dìth air,
Mu 'n cuairt air na suinn sin,,
Nach sealladh na h' ìosal,
Bha 'n inntinn robh stàtail.

Dia 'a stiùireadh 'ur gnothuich,
Air gach taobh agus romhaibh,
A null air chuan domhain,
Is coimhiche gàire,
Thugaibh eòlas earail,
Do 'n ghaoith a bhi tairis,
Gus an giùlain i thairis,
'Ur mnathan 's 'ur pàisdean.
Biodh an fhairge le mothar,
Toirt an spid as an reothart,
Biodh Neiptean 'ga clobhadh,
Gun tomhas ro àrd orr' ;
Gus an ruig sibh am fearann,
Gun eagal a ghabhail,
Dol air tìr mar is maith leibh,
Ann an calaichean sàbhailt'.

Triallaibh nis fhearaibh
Gu dùthaich gun ghainne,
Cuiribh cuil ris an fhearann,
'Chaidh thairis am màl oirbh,
Gu dùthaich na meala,
Gu dùthaich a' bhainne,
Gu dùthaich an ceannaich sibh
Fearann gur n-àilghios.
Gu dùthaich gun ghainne,
Gun chrionadh, gun stannard,
Far an cuasaich sibh barrachd
'S a mhaireas 'ur làithean,
'S e'n saighdear glic fearail
'N uair chitheadh e 'm barrachd,
A theicheadh le anam,
'S nach fanadh 's a' làraich.

Seallaibh mun cuairt duibh,
'Us faicibh na h-uaislean,
Gun iochd annt' ri truaghain,
Gun suairceas ri dàimhich ;
'S ann a tha iad am barail,
Nach buin iad do 'n talamh,
'S ged dh 'fhàg iad sibh falamh,
Cha 'n fhaic iad mar chall e.
Chaidh iad an sealladh
Air gach reachd agus gealladh,
Bha eadar na fearaibh
Thug am fearann bho nàmhaid
Ach innseadh iad dhomhsa,
'Nuair theid sibh air fògradh,
Mur caill iad an coir air
Gun dòigh air a thearnadh.



SONG TO THE EXILES

chorus:

Be brave and joyful
Hopeful and cheerful
And put your trust
In the help of the High King
Because you must sail
(Though it's not of your own will)
To a kingdom you don't know
As your kin have already...

Because they won't let you live
In the land that you know.
It is better you leave of your own will
Than be kept down like slaves
These are the idiotic landlords
Who scattered you to the winds -
And broke the neck of King George
When the Gaels were expelled !


It is sad to think
How the land has been made dearer
Our people left suddenly
And sheep came in their place
A Weak force, incapable,
In raid or battle
Skinny and full of braxy
Beguiled by the fox.
Smearing will not save you
When battle comes to the field
Nor will the shepherd's whistle
Ease your woe
And were you to gather fifty
Hornless rams and wedders
Not one would raise
A steel-bladed sword


What's the point of me saying
You have grown so mean
That you would geld a louse
Were it to gain a farthing in value?
Gone are the warrior chiefs
With their yearning for truth
And respect for those followers
Who contained their foes,
Ever mindful of the their tenantry
(Though not to fleece them),
Widows and orphans
Liberally provided for
Without want was each pauper
A round those heroes
Who would not see the debased
Their minds were too elevated...

Go now then boys, To a country without want
Turn your back on the land
Where the rent went too high
For the country of milk
For the country of honey
For the country where you will get
All the land that you need
In the country without need
Without blight, without limit
Where you will pick up more
Than will last the days of your life