Gaelic Waulking Song Group
... The Old Wives' Quarrelling
Nic a� Mhanaich (A� Bhan-Uidhisteach): Nic a� Mhanaich (The Uist woman):
H�gaibh ise �n t�gaibh �ileadh
H� r� h�gaibh i.
H�GAIBH ISE �N TUGAIBH �ILEADH
H� R� H�GAIBH I.
Cha t�id M�r a Bharraidh bhr�nach Mor will not go to miserable Barra
H� r� h�gaibh i.
H�GAIBH ISE �N TUGAIBH �ILEADH
H� R� H�GAIBH I.
Cha d�id Catriona �ga de�in ann Catriona will not go willingly there
No Anna bheag ma �s i as �ige nor little Anna though she is the youngest,
Far am bi na sgait air fle�dradh where the skates are steeped,
Dallagan is s�ilean r�gach and the sunken-eyed dogfish,
Giomaich �gan tarruing � fr�gaibh and lobsters pulled from their hiding places,
Str�bain �gan cladhadh le �m me�irean where they dig cockles with their fingers,
Muirsgein �gan tarruing a l�naibh where razor-fish are pulled from puddles.
Nic Iain Fhinn (A� Bhana-Bharrach): Nic Iain Fhinn (The Barra woman):
Tha lionn-dubh mo chinn air d�rtadh Melanchloy has overwhelmed me,
�G �isdeachd ri bleideig an R�dha! listening to the blether from the Rodha! *
A chailin dubh �s a dhubh-bhr�gach Wicked lassie, black-footed,
Cha b� e mo th�r an t�r bhr�nach my land is not a miserable country�
T�r a� chorca t�r an e�rna a land of oats, a land of barley,
T�r uisge-bheatha agus bhe�ire a land of whisky and beer.
H� r� h�gaibh i.
H�GAIBH ISE �N TUGAIBH �ILEADH
H� R� H�GAIBH I.
O h�g o Chailleach chr�bach You hunchbacked old wifie,
O HUG O l�gach iollagach bandy-legged, flighty,
O HUG O Bhradach bhriagach thieving, lying,
O HUG O bhialach ionasdach big-mouthed, �?...
O HUG O Bhreugach sgeulach untruthful, tale-bearing,
O HUG O �isgeach inisgeil! scurrilous, slanderous!
O HUG O Tha do theanga Your tongue
O HUG O leathan c�mhnard is broad and flat�
O HUG O Tha tr� roinn oirr� it has three points
O HUG O �s faobhar le�it� oirr� and a cutting edge.
O HUG O Chaidh i ri cloich It went to the whet-stone
O HUG O air a� bh�n-d� the day before yesterday!
H�GAIBH ISE �N TUGAIBH �ILEADH
H� R� H�GAIBH I.
�S truagh nach fhaighinn siud air m� �rdan It�s a pity this wasn�t in my power:
Slaodadh ris an T�r air r�pa dragging on a rope to the the Tower, **
D� shac dhiag gu teine m�na twelve bags of peat for a fire,
Bradag bhith �na miosg �ga r�sladh the thieving woman being roasted in it,
�S na coin mh�r bhith �gad shr�iceadh while big dogs were tearing you
�S na mucan ag ithe t� fhe�la! and pigs were eating your flesh!
Agus lean Nic Iain Fhinn oirre mar sin, agus de thachair ach nuair a sguir i dhe a caineadh, thuit an te Uidhisteach na plod air a� chleith m� a coinneimh.
�Togaibh a� chailleach a-mach as an taigh is cuiribh t� eile �na �ite,� arsa Nic Iain Fhinn, � �s gun mhi leathach!�
Dh�fhalbh na h-Uidhistich gu greim a dheanamh oirre, agus rinn ise an uair sin falbh comhla ris an sgiobadh Bharrach. Nuair a rainig iad an sgoth aca, leum iad innte, ghe�rr iad an r�pa, thug iad a mach agus r�naig iad Barraidh. Bhuinnig Nic Iain Fhinn an geall!
And Nic Iain Fhinn went on like that. And what happened but when she stopped abusing her, the Uist woman fell dead on the waulking-board opposite her. �Take that old hag out of the house and put another one in her place� said Nic Iain Fhinn. �I�m not half finished!� Then the Uist people went to catch hold of her, and she made off with the Barra crew. When they reached their boat, they jumped aboard, cut the rope, sailed off, and reached Barra. Nic Iain Fhinn had won the wager!
* An Rodha is in South Uist, on the shore near Gearrabhailteas.
** Kishmul, not London!
1. Prelude
2. A Dhia, 's gaolach leam an gille