A’ Hò-rò Mu Dheire agus an t-Àm Ri Teachd - The Future and a Last Hurrah

A’ Hò-rò Mu Dheire agus an t-Àm Ri Teachd

Sgolt e e air muin an t-cistern, slighean geal far comhair

Mi fhèin ’s mo charaid, nota truist’ sinn deas am broinn an stàile

Loidhnichean fialaidh gan roinn eadar dithis

An club air bhoil am beus gar crith

Seo Dihaoine ’s Disathairne fad bliadhna no dhà

Coma leinn an t-aithreachas a mhaireadh gu Dimàirt

Suas leis an duslach, sguab às an càrn

Ach an e seo e, an e seo dha-rìribh na tha an dàn?

Chan e – ’s e seo, ma dh’fhaoidte, an trup mu dheire

Oir dh’eagraich mi mo phlana beatha

Cuiridh mi am baile mòr is a thaitneasan air chùl

Nì mise air a’ Ghàidhealtachd fàgaidh mi mo shaoghal

Dealaichear le caraidean a b’ aithne bhon an sgoil

Seo a dh’fheumar dèanamh gus m’ iomairt a chur gu dol

Tha gaol na tè gam tharraing suas a loch is garbh-chrìch

Ach cha bhean no leannan i mo ghràdh, ’s i teanga tùs ar tìr.

Suas e is suas e le acras agus sannt

Tha gaoireag ruith tro fhèith is chois, tiugnamaid a dhanns

Tha oidhche a’ dol na maidne ann am priobag bheag nan sùl

A dh’fhàs cho mòr ri gealaichean is sinn glacte anns an uaimh

Solas grèin a’ dalladh is gar breaba’ a bh’ anns an dubhar

Tha barrachd ann na seo a-nis, ’s i a’ Ghàidhlig mo bheatha ùr

“Cumaidh sinn an touch, a laoich”, a’ fàgail slàn le Iain còir

Ach teansa gur e seo a’ chrìoch air dàimhean a’ bhaile mhòir

Na caoidh airson an fhògraich, na gabh truas air mo shon

Chan ionndrainn mi am baile mòr, cha robh mi ann ach seal

Am beàrn a bha nam shaoghal-sa nach d’ fhuair sinn riamh san sgoil

Lìonar e le Gàidhlig ghrinn, ar n-eachdraidh is ar ceòl

Cuireamaid ar crìoch a-nis air an fhrith-rathad gheal mar sròin

Sguabar às gach creagag bhàn a chuireas sinn air bhoil

Is fàgaidh mi mo shoraidh slàn ceann là no ’s dòcha dhà

Nì balach gallda air Innse Gall, an dèidh seo, mo shoraidh slàn.

The Future and A Last Hurrah

He chopped it up upon the cistern, paths of gleaming white

Myself and a pal, notes rolled up inside the stall

Generous lines carved up

The club heaving and the muffled bass pounding

This has been my Friday and Saturday for a year or two

To hell with the hangover of regret that lasts till Tuesday

Up with the dust, guzzle up the heap

But is this really it, is this what’s to be?

No – this is, quite probably, my last hurrah

I’ve been preparing an alternative life plan

I will put behind me the city and its charms

I’m making for the Highlands for a different kind of life

I will part from friends I’ve known from school

But that’s what it will take to get my project off the ground

Her love is pulling me up to loch and hill and moor

But she is not a woman or a lover but my country’s ancestral tongue

Up with it, up with it, with a greed and hunger

A tingling runs through veins and feet, I have to dance

Night becomes day in the blink of our eyes

That grew as big as planets while we were down in the cave

Sunlight blinding and thumping the creatures of the dark

There’s more to life than this, my new life is a Gaelic one

“We’ll keep in touch, bud”, saying farewell to John

But this could be the end of friendships made in town

No laments for the exile, don’t feel sorry for me

I won’t miss the city, I was only there for a while

The void in my life that we never got at home, in school

Will be filled with Gaelic, our history and our song

Let’s finish it together the white mountain track below

Hoover up every pale rock that sends us into artificial bliss

Then I’ll say my goodbyes in a day, or maybe two

The lowland boy heads to the Hebrides, after this, my last hurrah.