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Sìleas na Ceapaich

A Rìgh ’s diombach mi ’n iomairt
Chuir gach fine air fògradh,
Dh’ fhàg e gun chadal am dhùsgadh mi,
Gun aighear, gun èibhneas,
Gun rèite bho Dheòrsa,
Dh’ fhàg e gun chadal am dhùsgadh mi;
A Rìgh ’s iomad bean uasal
Tha gu h-uaigneach ’n a seòmar,
Gun aighear, gun èibhneas,
’S i aig èirigh ’n a h-ònar,
A’ sìor-chaoidh nan uaislean
A fhuair iad ri phòsadh,
Dh’ fhàg e gun chadal am dhùsgadh mi.

Mo thruaighe a’ chlann
Nach robh gann ’n an curaiste,
Dh’ fhàg sibh gun chadal am dhùsgadh mi;
Luchd rùsgadh nan lann
An àm nam builleanan,
Dh’ fhàg sibh gun chadal am dhùsgadh mi.
Ged a tha sibh ’s an àm
Air feadh ghleann agus munaidhean,
Gu nochd sibh ur ceann
An àm teanntachd mar churaidhean;
’Nuair thig Seumas a-nall
’S i ur lann bhios fuileachdach,
Dh’ fhàg sibh gun chadal am dhùsgadh mi.

’S e rìgh na muice
’S na Cuigse Rìgh Deòrsa,
Is fada ’n ur cadal gun dùsgadh sibh;
Mas tig oirnn an t-Samhuinn
Bidh amhach ’s na còrdaibh,
Is fada ’n ur cadal gun dùsgadh sibh;
Nan èireadh sibh suas
Ann an cruadal ’s an duinealas,
Eadar ìslean is uaislean,
Thuath agus chumanta,
Sgiùrsadh sibh uaibh e,
Rìgh fuadain nach buineadh dhuinn,
Is dhèanainn an cadal gu sunndach leibh.

To King James’ Army

Sìleas MacDonald of Keppoch

Translation by Colm O'Boyle

Lord, I am grieved at the trouble which has proscribed every family
It has left me lying sleepless awake,
Without joy or happiness, without a settlement from George.
It has left me lying sleepless awake.
Lord, there are many ladies lying alone in their rooms,
Rising alone without joy or happiness,
Ever lamenting for the gentlemen they married.
It has left me lying sleepless awake.

I pity the youths, whose courage was great,
You have left me lying sleepless awake,
Who would unsheathe their blades when it came to blows.
You have left me lying sleepless awake.
Though you are now scattered over valleys and mountains
You will reveal yourselves like heroes in time of difficulty;
When James arrives your blade will be covered in blood.
You have left me lying sleepless awake.

King George is a swinish Whiggish king
You are a long time sound asleep;
Before Hallowtide comes his neck will be in ropes.
You are a long time sound asleep;
If you were to rise with hardihood and manliness,
Both nobles and vassals, tenantry and common folk,
You would sweep him away from you,
An alien king who has no place with us
And I would joyfully join you in sleep.