HO HOILIGEAN, HO M' AIGHEAN [96]

CUDAIL thu 's thu dh'an chrodh mhara,

Chra chluasach, blieum chluasach,
bheannach,
Chrathadh fiial air cruach do sheanar,
'S cha tar thu iiam-s' a Luan no
Sha'iirn.
Ho hoiligean, ho m' aighean !
Ho hoiligean, ho m' aighean !
Ho hoiHgean, ho m' aighean !
Mo lochruidh chaomh gach taobh an
abhuinn.
Eudail thu 's thu chrodh na tire,
Bheir thu marrum, blieir thu mis
dhomh,
Bheir thu bainne barr na ciob dhomh,
'S cha b' e glaisle ghlas an t-siobain.
Ho hoiligean, ho m' aighean !
Eudail thu 's thu chrodh an t-saoghail,
Bheir thu bainne bafr an fhraoich
dhomh,
Cha bhainne glas air bhlas a chaorain,
Ach bainne meal 's e air cheal na
faoileig.
Ho hoiligean, ho m' aighean !
Bheir Bride bhinn dhut linn us ograidh,
Bheir Moire mhin dhut li dha d'
chomhdach,
Bheir Micheal liobha dhut ri dha d'
sheoladh,
'S bheir losda Criosda dhut sith us
solas.
Ho hoiligean, ho m' aighean !
CRONAN CUALLAICH [105]
AN crodh an diiigh a dol imirig,
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o,
Ho ro la ill o,
Hill-i-ruiii us o h-ug o,
Dol a dh' itheadh feur na cille,
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o.
Am buachaille fein ann ga'n iomain,
Ho ro la ill o,
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o,
Ga'n cuallach, ga'n cuart, ga'n tilleadh,
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o,
Bride bhith-gheal bhi ga'm blighinn,

HO HOILIGEAN, HO MY HEIFERS
My treasure thou, and thou art of the sea kine,
Red eared, notch eared, high horned,
Urine was sprinkled on the rump of thy grandsire.
And thou shalt not win from me on Monday nor
Saturday.
Ho hoihgean, ho my heifers!
Ho hoiligean, ho my heifers!
Ho hoiligean, ho my heifers!
My kindly kine on each side of the stream.
My treasure thou, and thou art of the land kine.
Thou wilt give me milk produce, thou wilt give me
dainty.
Thou wilt give me milk from the top of the clubmoss,
And not the grey water of the sand-drift.
Ho hoihgean, ho my heifers!
My treasure thou, and thou art of the world's kine,
Thou wilt give me milk from the heather tops,
Not grey milk of the taste of the rowan berries.
But honey milk and white as the sea-gull.
Ho hoiligean, ho my heifers!
The melodious Bride will give thee offspring and
young,
The lovely Mary will give thee colour to cover thee,
The lustrous Michael will give thee a star to guide
thee.
And Christ Jesu will give thee peace and joy.
Ho hoiligean, ho my heifers!

A HERDING CROON
The cattle are today going a-flitting,
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o,
Ho ro la ill o,
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o,
Going to eat the grass of the burial-place,
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o,
Their own herdsman there to tend them.
Ho ro la ill o,
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o.
Tending them, fending them, turning them,
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o.
Be the gentle Bride milking them,

Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o,
Muire mhin-gheal bhi ga'n glidheadh,
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o,
'S losa Criosda air chinn an slighe,
losa Criosda air chinn an slighe.
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o.

Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o,
Be the lovely IMary keeping them,
Hill-i-ruin us o h-ug o.
And Jesu Christ at the end of their journey,
Jesu Christ at the end of their journey.
Hill-i-ruin us o h-uff o.