The Highland monthly - National Library of Scotland

96 The Highlajid Monthly.
'N hm an cruinneachaidli do 'n
bhuailidh
li' e mo luaidh a bhi 'n an coir ;
Bhiodh a duanag aig gach guanaig,
Agus cuach aice 'n a dorn ;
Bhiodh mactalla 'freagairt shiias—
E ri aithris fuaim a beoil—
Ach cha chkiinnear sin '^ an iim so
Anns a' ghleann 's au robh mi og.
Anns a' ghleann, &e.
Ann an dubhlachd gharbh a'gheamh-
raidh
Cha b' e am 'bu ghainn' ar spurs ;
Greis air siigra:lh, greis air dannsa,
(jreis air cainntireachJ 'us ce61 ;
Bhiodh gach seanair acsmhor, liath,
'G innse sgialachdan gun gho
Air gach gaisgeach fearail, greannmhor
Bha 's a'ghkann 'n u.iir 'bha iad 6g.
Anns a' ghleann, &c.
Bha de sholas dheth gach seors' ann
'Chumadh oigridh ann am fonn ;
Cha robh uisge, muir, no mointeach
Air an comhdach bho ar bonn ;
Ach an diugh tha maor 'us lann
Air gach alltan agus 6b ;
Cha' n 'eil saorsa sruth nam beanntan
Anns a' ghleann 's an robh mi 6g.
Anns a' ghleann, &c.
Tha na flirdaichean 'u am fasaich,
Far an d' ^lraicheadh na se6id,
Far 'm bu chridheil fuaim an gixire,
Far 'm bu chairdeil iad mu 'n bh6rd.
Far am faigheadh coigreach bhigh,
Agus h,nrach bochd a Ion ;
Ach cha 'n fhaigh iad 'sin 's an am so
Anns a' ghleann 's an robh mi 6g.
Ann.s a' ghleann, &c.
Chaochail maduinn ait ar n-6ige
Mar an cc6 air bhirr nam beann ;
Tha ar cairdean 's ar luchd-eolais
Air am f6gradh 'bhos 'us thall ;
•
When the lasses gaed a fauldin,'
Aft I joined the merry thrang,
In their hands their milkin' coggies,
An' fra ilka voice a sang ;
When the echoes, sweet an' clear,
Wad gie answer frae the ben
—
But we hear nae mair their liltin'
In my bonnie native glen.
In the glocmy winter e'enin's
Roun' the ingle gathered a',
An' wi' music, mirth, an' dancin',
Thert; we wiled the hours awa.
Or the auld folks aiblins tauld
O' the brave and mighty men,
That were ance the pride an' glory
O' my bonnie native glen.
There was routh o' sport an' pleasure
Tae keep a' the young in glee.
For the loch, the moss, the muirlan',
Then tae a' alike were free.
Now the bailiff's keepin' ward
On each streamlet, cref;k, an' fen,
An ye daurna fish a burnie
In my bonnie native glen.
Now the dwellings are in ruins,
Where ance lived a gallant clan ;
Their's was aye the frien'ly welcome,
And their's aye the open han'.
Aft the needy an' the puir
Found a place at their fire-en'
Now, alas ! there's nane tae greet
them
In my bonnie native glen.
Like mist upon the mountains
Our youlhfu' days did glide ;
Now oor kin an' auld acquaintance
Are scattered far an' wide ;