| Sgioba Luaidh Inbhirchluaidh Gaelic Waulking Song Group |
| Am maistreadh a bh' aig Muire Air �rlar a' ghlinne A' meudachadh an �me, A' lughdachadh a' bhainne. Thig, a' chuinneag, thig. Bl�thach gu dorn, 's �m gu uillinn, Thig, a' chuinneag, thig. Tha glug a seo, tha glag a seo, Tha glag a seo, tha glug a seo; Tha rud nas fh�arr na c�ir a seo, Tha rud a 's fh�arr na f�on ann. Thig, a' chuinneag, thig. Bl�thach gu dorn, 's �m gu uillinn, Thig, a' chuinneag, thig. Tha glug a seo, tha glag a seo, Tha seilchag mh�r air bhog a seo; Tha l�n cuman Cairistiona Do dh' �m breagha buidh' againn. Thig, a chuinneag, thig. Bl�thach gu dorn, 's �m gu uillinn, Thig, a' chuinneag, thig. Thig an l�n, thig an smeor', Thig an ce�l as a' bhrugh; Thig a' chuthag, thig a' cheathag, Thig an fhosgag adhair. Thig, a' chuinneag, thig. Bl�thach gu dorn, 's �m gu uillinn, Thig, a' chuinneag, thig. |
| The Virgin Mary's churning on the floor of the glen, increasing the butter, decreasing the milk. Come, churn, come. Buttermilk to the wrist, butter to the elbow! Come, churn, come. There's a glug here, a glag here, a glag here, a glug here. There's something better than you'd expect here, something better than wine! Come, churn ... There's a glug here, a glag here; There's a big "slug" floating here. We have the fill of Christine's pail of lovely yellow butter. Come, churn ... The blackbird will come, the thrush will come; music will come from the fairy-hill; the cuckoo and the jackdaw will come, and the little skylark. Come, churn, come ... |
| Am maistreadh a bh' aig Muire |
| Churning butter was a long process - you needed a lot of patience - and strong arm muscles! In this song you can hear the butter "glugging" in the churn. This is the version sung by Mary MacColl (Campbell) of Barra. |
 |