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Mòrag Sheumais Bhàin, Mòrag Dhòmhnallach

’S ann air a’ chiad mhìos den bhliadhn’ ùr a fhuair mi sgeul mo chràidh
Gu robh mo mhac an treun-a-neart air tuiteam sìos gu làr,
Le cridhe trom ’s na deòir a’ ruith, chan fhaighinn fois no tàmh,
Bha astar cuain gam chumail uaith ’s cha ruiginn air mo ghràdh.

Bha mi faighinn naidheachd tric, ma bha, cha b’ ann na b’ fheàrr,
Bha Seumas bochd a sìor fhàs lag measg lighichean gu leòr,
Cha b’ urrainn dhomhsa stad an seo ach dh’ fhalbh mi air a thòir,
’S chùm lagh na rìoghachd mi air ais, ’s chan fhaighinn-sa na chòir.

Bha pàipear geal a-null ’s a-nall is riaghailtean gu leòr,
Mo dhealbh ga iarraidh ’n dubh ’san geal is faoineasan ro mhòr,
Ach madainn mhoch an dèidh seo ’s ann dh’fhàg e tìr nam beò,
Thug Dia nan gràs bhuam mac mo ghràidh ’s e fhèin a b’ fheàrr air còir.

Ach thug E dhomhsa neart airson mo chrois a chumail suas,
Is gheall E dhomh nan dèanainn seo nach caillinn-sa mo dhuais,
An Crìosdaidh Iob an duine bochd, na thachair ris de chruas,
Bha air a lot le creuchdan goirt ach mhol e ’n Dia tha shuas.

Dh’àithn’ E dhuinn ar rèis a ruith le foighidinn gu ceann,
Ar sùil a chumail suas ris fhèin gu ruig sinn an taobh thall,
An saoghal bochd tha bhos an seo, chan iarr sinn fuireach ann
Oir dh’ ullaich e dhuinn àit’ ’s fheàrr, ’s co-dhùnaidh mi mo rann.

In Memory of My Loving Son

Morag MacDonald

Translation by Rev John Murdo Smith

It was on the first month of the year I received my sad news,
That my only son, in full manhood, had suddenly fallen ill,
With a heavy heart and flowing tears, I could not rest at all,
For seas prevented me from reaching him and on my loved one call.

The news I daily received of him was sadly not the best,
For James’s condition grew hourly worse though doctors were at hand.
I could not then, here remain, but left to be with him,
But our Nation’s laws prevented me from ever reaching him.

Various forms in black and white must by law be filled,
My photo also was required and endless other things.
But early morning the next day poor James had passed away
The Eternal God took my beloved son and claimed him as His own.

He gave to me sufficient strength to bear my heavy cross,
He promised that if I did this, I would receive reward.
Poor Job, the Godly saint, many hardships he endured
Yet, despite his pain and loss, he praised the Lord above.

He asked us all to run the race with patience to the end,
To keep our eyes fixed on Him till we reach the other side.
In this sad world we would not want to live forever more,
Since God prepared a better place, this eulogy I’ll end.