7 In
winter, in the season of cold,
In the season of weddings and
milling frolics,
Young men could be heard at the
milling-board;
The girls’ clear voices would follow
their lead.
8 And
when the milling was finished.
The fiddle then would be tuned.
And we would dance on the smooth,
bare floor;
“Cabar Feidh” was our favourite tune.
9 A
kind, pleasant old lady then would
be seen
Coming round to measure the cloth;
Using the bent middle finger of her
fist as a measure.
There was no way anyone could
deceive her.
10 Tonight,
sadness has come over me
As I recall the says of my youth
And those who used to have fun with
us—
Some of them today are no longer
living.
11
But although these friends have
left us,
They have gone to their everlasting
home
In the Palace of the King of Hosts
Where there is enduring happiness.
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7
Anns a ‘gheamhradh, am an
fhuachd,
Am nam bainnsean, am nan luadh,
Chluinnte gillean air cleith-luaidh,
‘S gruagaich’ le guth cruiadh ‘g an
leantainn.
8 Nuair
bhiodh am fucadh ullamh,
reidh,
Chuirt’ an fhidheall sin air ghleus;
Dhannsamaid air urlar reidh,
Gur e “Cabar Reidh” bu mhath leinn
9 Chite
cailleach ghasda, choir,
Tighinn mu’n cuart a thomhas a’
chlo,
An cromadh aice air a dorn,
‘S cha robh doigh ac’ air a mealladh.
10
‘S e chuir mise nochd fo bhron,
Cuimhneachadh air laithean m’oig;
An fheadhainn a bhiodh leinn ri
spors,
Gu bheil cuid diubh nach eil
maireann.
11
‘S ged a dh’fhalbh a ‘ chuid sin
bhuainn,
Chaidh iad anns an dachaidh bhuan,
Ann am Palas Righ nan Sluagh,
Far bheil solas buan bhios maireann.
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