Mun òran

Chaidh a sgrìobhadh le pàrantan Oighrig NicCruimein, tè de na seanchaidhean mu dheireadh air an eilean, agus a chruinnechadh le Alasdair MacGhilleMhìcheil à Lios Mòr ann an 1865.

Anns an leabhar aige, Hiort: Far na laigh a’ ghrian, tha Calum MacFhearghuis a’ sgrìobhadh mu na thachair nuair a chaidh MacGhilleMhìcheil gu taigh Oighrig NicCruimein:

"Mo laochan," ars' Oighrig, "'s tusa a thàinig chon dachaigh cheart airson eachdraidh Hiort fhaotainn — agus a chuid bàrdachd. Fhios agad, rinn m'athair 's mo mhàthair òran dha chèile nuair a bha aid a leannanachd — fada mus do rugadh mise. Ach mo thruaighe, cha do mhair m'athair fada air chùl pòsadh. Chaidh e fhèin agus mo sheanair a-mach a dh'eunachd. Bha mo sheanair gu h-àrd air ceann na loin agus m'athair fodha na sheasamh agus thuit dithis mo ghaoil dhan fhairge.
Chunnacas iad a' seòladh air uachdar na mara, air an cumail am bàrr leis na h-eòin a bha ceangailte umpa, ach dh'fhalbh iad a-mach dhan chuan. O, càirdean mo ghaoil!"

Iorram Suirghe

Bhuam cas-chrom, bhuam cas-dhìreach

Bhuam gach mìs is cìob is uan

Suas mo lòn, nuas mo rìoba

Chuala mi an gùg sa chuan

Na h-eòin a’ tighinn cluinneam an ceòl  

Bò dhonn, bò dhonn, bò dhonn bheidireach

Bò dhonn, a rùin, a bhligheadh am bainne dhut

Hò ro rù ra ri-ri roideachag

Cailin dubh ciar-dubh bò sa chrò

Na h-eòin a’ tighinn, cluinneam an ceòl

Buidheachas dhan Tì, thàine na gugachan

Thàinig ’s na h-eòin mhòra cuide riu      

Nàile, ’s e mo chuat am buachaille

Bhagradh am bàta is nach buaileadh

Cailin dubh ciar-dubh, bò sa chrò

’S tu mo luran ’s tu mo leannan

Thug thu thùs dhomh ’m fulmair meala 

M’eudail thu, mo lur ’s mo shealgair

Thug thu ’n-dè dhomh ’n sùl ’s an gear-bhall     

Cailin dubh ciar-dubh, bò sa chrò

’S tu mo smùirean, ’s tu mo smeòirean 

’S mo chruit-chiùil sa mhadainn bhòidhich

’S tu mo chagar ’s tu mo chearban

Thug thu ’m buit dhomh ’s thug thu ’n gearra-bhreac

Cailin dubh ciar-dubh, bò sa chrò

About the song

This was composed by the parents of Effie MacCrimmon, one of the last story-tellers on the island, and was collected by Alexander Carmichael of Lismore in 1865.

In his book, Hiort: Far na laigh a’ ghrian, Calum Ferguson writes about what happened when Carmichael went to the house of Effie MacCrimmon:

"My dear," said Effie, "you have come to the right house for finding the history of St. Kilda - and its poetry. Do you know, my father and my mother made up a song to each other when they were courting — long before I was born. But alas, my father didn't live for long after marrying. He and my grandfather went out birding. My grandfather was up high at the head of the line and my father underneath standing and my two loved ones fell into the ocean. They were seen floating on the surface of the sea, kept there with the birds that were tied round them, but they drifted out to the ocean. O my beloved ones!”

Iorram Suirghe



Away from me crooked spade, away from me straight spade

Away from me every kid and sheep and lamb

Up (with) my little rope down (with) my hook

I heard the gannet in the sea

The birds coming, let me hear the music           

A brown cow, a brown cow, a pampered brown cow         

A beloved brown cow that would draw milk for you        

Hò ro rù ra ri-ri sweet myrtle        

A dark-haired girl, a dark-grey cow in the fold       

The birds coming, let me hear their music        

Thanks to God, the gannets have come               

And the big birds have come with them           

Indeed my lover is the shepherd              

Who would threaten the boat and wouldn’t strike        

A dark-haired girl, a dark-grey cow in the fold

You are my beloved, you are my sweetheart            

You first gave me the sweet fulmar          

My treasure, my delight and my hunter            

You gave me yesterday the gannet and the great auk    

A dark-haired girl, a dark-grey cow in the fold      

You are my little beak and you are my little thrush    

And my harp in the beautiful morning             

You are my darling and you are my buttercup           

You gave me the fowl and you have me the guillemot   

A dark-haired girl, a dark-grey cow in the fold