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Archive for April 2009

Membrancing from the Lebar Gabala Erenn

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I came across this remembrance in the Lebar Gabala Erenn. I thought it was inspirational, so I copied it and offer it up with a modern Gaelic version and the English translation.

Athair cāich, Coimsid Nime,
in Rī uasal ainglige,
ār Cuingid, ār Coimde, ār Cend,
cen tūs, cen crīch, cen forcend.

Athair de gach nì, Triath Nèimh,
an Rìgh uasal aingealach,
ar Curaidh, ar Tighearna, ar Ceann,
gun tùs, gun chrìoch, gun chrioslaich.

Father of all, Master of Heaven,
the noble angelic King,
our Champion, our Lord, our Head,
without beginning, end, or termination.

Written by David Rosser Owen

April 26, 2009 at 9:37 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

Why is the Conservative Party silent while our old liberties fall among thieves?

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This letter from the Earl of Onslow to David Cameron appeared in The Guardian “Comment is Free” section in 2006. The questions he raises are more urgently demanding of an answer now than they were three years ago, as the General Election that must be held by June 2010 gets ever nearer.

An open letter to the Conservative leader

A leading Tory peer tells David Cameron that he should be restoring the party’s traditional values on liberties

Dear Mr Cameron,

You and I are Conservatives. It could even be said that we both had a traditional upbringing. I have always understood that we Conservatives have been at our best when we use conservative and traditional methods for constructive change. From our beginnings in the Restoration parliament as defenders of church and king, we have seen ancient liberties as the key to the advancement of our fellow citizens.

Throughout the centuries, that Conservative-Tory tradition has been used for the immense benefit of our people. Peel’s Tamworth Manifesto stated that so clearly in 1834. That is why we have been the most successful and long-lasting political party in history. From the Stuart kings to the modern, mass-political democracy, our great party has defended our constitution and benefited our country.

Something is missing from our rhetoric. We have a government by a party that reinvented itself by being ashamed of its roots and determinedly betrayed the traditions and ideas of its founders. They may well have been right so to do, but they cannot be trusted to hold dear the traditions of others.

In no order of awfulness, this government has emasculated the House of Commons by the permanent use of guillotines. On the whim of the Prime Minister, the Lord Chancellorship has been neutered, removing a voice of law from the cabinet.

Those instances are on the parliamentary front, but what the government has done to the liberty of the subject is far worse. Note that I say liberty of the subject, not the rights of the citizen. That is because liberties are boundless unless circumscribed by law and rights are, by their nature, circumscribed.

It has repealed the law on double jeopardy. With Asbos, it has sent to prison some of the young on hearsay evidence for things that are not even criminal. It has created a centralised register held by the government on all citizens and proposes to force them to have ID cards. It has formed a police force with unprecedented powers of arrest – the Serious Organised Crime Agency – over which the Home Secretary has authority no predecessor has previously enjoyed.

Through its control orders, it has introduced a system of deprivation of liberty without trial on the say-so of the executive. It has passed the Civil Contingencies Act that allows a minister to override any statute after the calling of a state of emergency and now there is the Regulatory Reform Bill, which has been described as ‘the abolition of parliament bill’ and against which our party did not even vote at second reading. This gives gauleiter-like powers to ministers which we are blandly told will not be used.

The government has allowed the retention by the police of DNA details of thousands of innocents and it has given us section 81 (6) of the Asylum and Immigration (Treatment of Claims) Act 2004 which amends the Nationality, Immigration and Asylums Act 2002, creating a single-tier appeals procedure which Lord Steyn, in a recent lecture, described as, in effect, ousting the jurisdiction of ordinary courts. The government has introduced anti-terrorism stop-and-search powers that are constantly being misused, such as when the elderly Walter Wolfgang was ejected from the Labour conference.

This list is by no means comprehensive. What surprises, worries and depresses me is the apparent relative quietude on the part of the Conservative party on these issues. I repeat – it did not vote against the Regulatory Reform Bill on second reading. It has not remembered the great Edward Gibbon’s comment on Augustus Caesar’s Rome: ‘The principles of a free constitution are irrecoverably lost when the legislative power is nominated by the executive.’

It was dozy on the Civil Contingencies Act until the excellent Peta Buscombe in our house took it up; this from the party which, since the restoration of Charles II, has been so jealous of our constitution. Have we a guilty secret?

Remember Burke saying: ‘All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.’ Why are we not shouting from the hustings that we will return to the people their ancient liberties?

Why, Mr Cameron, is the Conservative party passing by on the other side while our old liberties fall among thieves?

Yours sincerely, Onslow

· The Earl of Onslow is one of the 92 hereditary peers and takes the Conservative whip.

Written by David Rosser Owen

April 26, 2009 at 7:59 pm

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Copyright, Credits, and Simple Courtesy

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I keep coming across Muslims who claim that there is no copyright in Islam.

Actually, I’ve been coming across these people since the late 60s. I’ve sometimes asked, and often wondered, what the nusous for this claim are. So far I haven’t had a satisfactory answer. In my reading of the Quran and the Hadiths, to be facetious, I seem to have missed the bit where it says “laysa fi-l Islami-l haqqu-t ta’lif“.

This isn’t actually directed at anybody in particular; but if after reading this you feel that you might have been one of those who slipped up, could you please do the decent thing and enter an ex post facto credit or acknowledgement to me.

It goes against the grain somewhat, but I do have some sympathy with that O’Neill Roman Catholic St Columba (well, the O’Donnells were part of the Northern O’Neill) wishing to keep the copy of the prayer manual he had made – as long as he was willing to give credit where it was due and not pass it off as his own work.

Wikipedia (which in this case is correct) states:

“Tradition asserts that, sometime around 560, he became involved in a quarrel with Saint Finnian of Moville over a psalter. Columba copied the manuscript at the scriptorium under Saint Finnian, intending to keep the copy. Saint Finnian disputed his right to keep the copy. The dispute eventually led to the pitched Battle of Cúl Dreimhne in 561, during which many men were killed. A synod of clerics and scholars threatened to excommunicate him for these deaths, but St Brendan of Birr spoke on his behalf with the result that he was allowed to go into exile instead. Columba suggested that he would work as a missionary in Scotland to help convert as many people as had been killed in the battle.”

It’s thought by some that St Finnian was actually St Ninian (of Whitehorn, or Candida Casa), but it is difficult to give this too much credit as he died about 150 years before the incident of the psalter.

Perhaps having a battle over the matter was a bit extreme. Certainly dumping the Papist and his cronies on the Celtic Christian Dal Riadans was not merely annoying but the source of centuries of strife.

Nevertheless, on the other hand, what he cribbed was somebody else work and he should have credited it as such.

The immediate cause of this whinge of mine is that yet again I’ve come across some recension of the History of Islam in the British Isles done by me.

I suppose the source is either Mas’ud Khan’s website (, or the cached documents from the Association of British Muslims’ website. I don’t mind people using it, but I would like (a) a credit at least, and (b) for them to get it right.

My original write-up was essentially a précis of some research I and my daughter Isla’d done. I’m quite happy for people to cap this, but I would expect them to use – as I did, as far as was possible – primary sources. You cannot write reliable or usable history from secondary or tertiary material.

That means struggling through the Old Irish and Latin of the Annals – of Ulster, Tigernach, and the Four Masters – and the Middle Irish of the Lebor Gabala Erenn, various Latin and Old French documents such as Hector Boyce, volumes of the Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society looking for articles on contract coinage, and visiting the Deanery of Canterbury Cathedral to view the chasuble of St Thomas à Beckett.

And I would like an acknowledgment.

It is hard enough doing primary research without the cosy supportive environment of a sinecure or academic comfort zone (with their resources (and money) on tap) without the simple courtesy of some recognition. Money would have been nice, but a credit might have to do. I’ve given up waiting to be asked, certainly by Muslims but also sadly by non-Muslims, to give any academic papers on my various expertises.

All that being said, and all that effort having been put in, it is frustrating to say the least to find Muslims still trying to claim that Offa king of Mercia (and builder of the dyke I used to live half-a-mile away from) was a Muslim on the strength of a single coin almost certainly struck on contract in Andalusia.

They might just as well claim that St Thomas à Beckett (King Henry II’s “turbulent priest”) was a Muslim because of his chasuble, now kept in the Chapter House of Canterbury Cathedral.

© D Rosser-Owen 2009

Written by David Rosser Owen

April 23, 2009 at 6:22 pm

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Bad Hats and other Annoyances

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The Duke of Wellington – the Iron Duke of Waterloo fame, that is – was not a great democrat in the modern sense, although he was willing to accept gradual change. He is said to have observed of the House of Commons after one of the early moves to Parliamentary reform that had allowed middle class people in that he had never seen so many bad hats in his life. In those days MPs and Peers of the Realm wore hats in the chamber – nice looking, expensive silk toppers if you could afford one. If not, something much cheaper that looked it.

I watched the Easter special edition of Dr Who. Towards the end of the episode, troops from UNIT turn up – and, with Arthur Wellesley, one could say that one had never seen so many bad hats in one’s life. Or rather badly worn berets.

I know that they’re actors; but surely the producer (or whoever) could have found a soldier – ex or still serving – to show them how to wear a beret properly. They looked like a right lot of (there’s a bad military word that would be used to describe them here: let’s just say that they looked like a proper bunch of civilians).

Which leads me to another lot of bad hats: parking wardens, meter attendants, and Blunkett’s Bobbies (or Fake Fuzz). That is to say, people who wear Forage Caps. If they’re going to wear the things, can someone please show them how to put them on properly.

If any of the offenders is reading this, the way that it is done is:

1. Place the peak bit square across your forehead, about 1 inch (approximately 25.4 mm) above your eyebrows, with the cap badge in the centre above your nose;

2. Hold it in place with the thumb and index finger of your left hand (right hand if you’re left-handed) spread across the front of the brim above the peak taking care not to smudge the capbadge;

3. With your right hand (or left hand) press the back of the hat down onto your head so that the whole thing sits square on your head with the back of the hat now sitting down.

4. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, take a trip to Horseguards and wait for one of the duty NCOs to appear and look at his hat. Let it burn itself on your consciousness. And don’t in future ponce around the streets looking like a proper wally (or civilian).

And then there are the prayer hats. Or rather lack of them. I’ve watched lots (and lots) of people turn up at our local mosque wearing some sort of hat – usually baseball caps in quite an impressive array of sponsorships – and then take them off to pray bareheaded.

They could have turned them around, baseball catcher style, and gained the sunnah of praying with the head covered that way.

I usually wear a bonnet; and get weird looks. I suppose some people, with the Duke of Wellington, are wondering what this fellow in the odd headgear is doing there. Ah, well…

© D Rosser-Owen 2009

Written by David Rosser Owen

April 21, 2009 at 6:36 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

‘S beag orm Gàidhlig, arsa Pàrlamaid na h-Alba

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‘S beag orm Gàidhlig, arsa Pàrlamaid na h-Alba

I may be wrong, I hope I’m wrong, I really do, in fact I’m willing to be proved absolutely wrong. But it seems to me that the Scottish Parliament has no particular affection for Gaelic and the Gaelic Culture, and little serious interest in its survival.

I suppose this is simply a reflection of the general Scottish colonial cringe towards the English and other foreigners about Gaelic. What Scotland and the Scots need is an injection of Welsh assertiveness.

Nevertheless, it really ought to be the Scottish Parliament that, pace W. S. Gilbert’s Duke of Plaza Toro, should lead the regiment from the front and by example.

Apart from the public, touristy areas of the architectural monstrosity at the bottom of the Cannongate by Holyroodhouse Palace, there’s hardly a word of the ancient tongue to be seen – not even on a finger board pointing to the taighean beaga.

How are the mighty fallen? At the end of the Eighteenth Century, two generations after the vindictive genocide that followed the disastrous Blàr Chùil Lodair, or Battle of Culloden, in 1746, 80 percent of Scotland was Gaelic speaking.

Nowadays, fewer than 60,000 people speak it, and they’re mostly confined to the Hebrides. And even the Gaelic-speaking youth would prefer to speak English, because Gaelic isn’t “cool”.

How do you make it fionnar? Could it be – shock! horror! – by those in charge of its learning and revival actually taking the matter seriously? The Parliament could take an initiative and start requiring bilingualism in public documents – just as they do in Wales.

It could also give some proper support to efforts to teach the language, and popularise the fact that there is teaching of the language available. And it could make some serious efforts to provide facilities and properly designed courses for those wanting to learn it.

Does it realise, for example, that London – according to The Herald – is the third largest Scottish city, with some 350,000 Scots in it? And that the south-east of England has over a million?

Gaelic isn’t a vastly difficult language unlike, say, Arabic, Hebrew, or Mandarin – there are only 10 irregular verbs, for example. And the extremely successful Ulpan system for teaching Hebrew, which has been used as the base for teaching Welsh as Wlpan, has been converted for Gaelic as Ùlpan Gàidhlig. So why hasn’t its use and availability become more widespread?

Some subsidy from the Parliament would be advantageous, too. It is expensive to study, and many people don’t have too much spare cash at the moment. It is also time-consuming, and some incentivising – like reduced fees – would not go amiss.

But, I think, the best fillip learning the language could have would be well-designed short courses.

At the moment, what seems to be available is either long courses lasting a year or more and leading to a degree-level qualification, or very short courses of one to two weeks that don’t appear to lead anywhere other than introduce the student to Scottish country dancing and Gaelic songs.

This doesn’t strike me as being serious about turning around the decline in the language.

Quite a few years ago, when I was a shiny new second lieutenant, I found myself on a basic Malay language course at the Language Wing of the Far East Training Centre at Nee Soon Barracks in central Singapore.

The aim of the Army Colloquial Malay Course was to equip the student with basic grammar, a 500-word or so vocabulary, and the ability to increase this by his or her own devices. Each evening one was required to learn a vocabulary for next day’s testing of around 25 words – quite a tall order.

The course was designed to last between four and six weeks, five days a week, and involved mornings learning and using grammar and vocabulary and afternoons talking one-on-one with native speakers.

Our course was cut short because Internal Security duties obtruded; nevertheless, I was able to become fluent, even bilingual, in Malay.

It is well-known that the best, most comprehensive, shortest duration teaching of Arabic in the world is the Long Arabic Course at the Joint Services School of Education at Beaconsfield in Buckinghamshire which lasts 18 months.

What I find quite astonishing is that the Armed Services are able to put together these courses – one teaching one of the simplest languages and the other one of the most difficult – and yet civilian institutions of learning are unable to match this. And their typical students are not university grade, but ordinary people with a basic education.

Taking the model of that Malay course for teaching Gaelic and using the Ulpan method – which wasn’t available then – it should be a very simple matter to design and run several month-long courses in Scotland or elsewhere, say in London, Islay, Skye, or Benbecula – even, don’t be shocked, in Edinburgh – to turn the decline in the language around.

All it requires is some Welsh assertiveness, and a seriousness on the part of educators, bureaucrats, and politicians that appears to this layman to be in short supply. Time for a change in attitude; an abandonment of the colonial cringe of the colonised mind, perhaps?

Then there’ll be plenty of time for singing and dancing.

Gun tèid gu math leibh: may it go well with you.

© D Rosser-Owen 2009

Written by David Rosser Owen

April 18, 2009 at 10:55 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

Surah 109, Al Kafiroun

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Here’s my attempt at translating Suratu-l Kafiroun (109). I haven’t simply translated the usual English semantics, but tried to give the meaning – or some of it – of the actual Arabic. Please indulge my poor versification.

Sir mi tèarmann le Allah Fhèin bho’n t-Sàtain clachte

An Ceudamh Buaileag thar an Naoi (109):

Na Luchd-ceiltinn*

An Ainm Allah an Nì Sàr-thruacanta ‘s Sàr-thròcaireach

Abair: A Luchd-ceiltinn,
Cha dèan mi adhradh** a nì adhradh sibh
Agus cha dèan sibh adhradh a nì adhradh mi,
Agus cha dèan mi adhradh a rinn adhradh sibh,
Agus cha dèan sibh adhradh a nì adhradh mi.
Gum bitheadh ur n-iùl-aideachadh° dhuibh is m’ iùl-aideachadh fhèin dhomh

*    “The People who Conceal” – kafara means “to cover, conceal, hide”. Concealing the truth from oneself is a positive, conscious act. A kafir (pl kafiroun or kuffar) is not simply an infidel or unbeliever, but someone who will not face the truth and covers it over or conceals it so that his or her conscience doesn’t have to see it.

**   or aoradh

°    “path of professing faith” – din doesn’t mean “religion” (whether it is derived from religere or, with Cicero, from religare) but more “way of life” or “life transactions”.

Written by David Rosser Owen

April 15, 2009 at 10:11 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

Donnchadh Bàn Mac an t-Saoir

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The cultural mix that makes up the British Isles extends beyond TV soap operas in English and music groups that a friend of mine described as “Destiny’s Clone”, alluding to the girl band “Destiny’s Child”. There is a rich heritage to be found outside the limited confines of the present-day English language in Scots and Irish Gaelic and Welsh, and which increasing numbers of UK Muslims are experiencing. One of the leaders of the “Save Gaelic” movement until his death in 2004 was Ali Abbasi (yarhamahu-Llah) who came to Glasgow from Pakistan and learnt Gaelic.

A couple of weeks ago it was the birthday of Donnchadh Bàn Mac an t-Saoir (Duncan Ban Macintyre), one of the great Gaelic poets – and I managed to miss making a posting to commemorate this event. He was born in Glenorchy in 1724 and died in Edinburgh in 1812; he’s buried in Greyfriars Kirkyard.

Among the poems he is famous for is the Ode to the Battle of Falkirk Muir (Òran Do Bhlàr Na h-Eaglaise Brice) in which he managed to lose the sword that belonged to his patron and in whose stead he was present at the battle. The Ode is well-known for its bitter wit.

Its metre reads remarkably like that long poem by Longfellow alluding to the Iroquois leader Hiawatha (“The Song of Hiawatha”). It would be interesting to speculate that the one borrowed from the other, but there’s no evidence that Longfellow had the Gaelic; although Gaelic was a common language in areas of British North America until relatively recently – the part of North Carolina near Grandfather Mountain was, for example, Gaelic-speaking at the eve of World War 1 – and had a dramatic effect on areas of American life.

Commenting on a discovery by Yale professor Willie Ruff an essay on The Kepler Label states,

“Several years ago, following up on a claim by his friend Dizzy Gillespe that some remote African American congregations in the Deep South sang hymns in Gaelic, Ruff made the startling discovery that an ancient call-and-response service still intoned in Gaelic in the highlands of Scotland was chanted by descendants of African slaves in the American South and by white congregations in remote churches of Appalachia.

“The Massachusetts Bay Colony Psalm Book from 1640, which Ruff found in Yale’s Beinecke Library, indicated that the unusual form, with one church member calling out the first line of a Psalm and the rest of the congregation continuing to chant the text in unison, had been a common worship service in Colonial America. While the advent of hymnals, musical instrumentation and organized choirs in 19th century Protestant churches for the most part superannuated the a cappella service, the dirge-like chanting of Psalms continued to be practiced in some remote churches. These included, among others, congregations of descendants of African slaves whose Scots owners had introduced them to the service, white descendants of Scots settlers in the Kentucky hills and Scottish Highlanders, who continue the tradition original to their forebears.”

Òran Do Bhlàr Na h-Eaglaise Brice

Latha dhuinn air Machair Alba
Na bha dh’armailt aig a’ Chuigse,
Thachair iad oirnne na reubail,
‘S bu neo-éibhinn leinn a’ chuideachd,
‘N uair a chuir iad an “ratreud” oirnn,
‘S iad ‘nar déidh a los ar murtadh,
Mur dèanamaid feum le’r casan:
Cha tug sinne srad le’r musgan.

A’ dol an coinneamh a’ Phrionnsa
Gum bu shunndach a bha sinne;
Shaoil sinn gum faigheamaid cùis deth,
‘S nach robh dhùinn ach dol g’a sireadh;
‘N uair a bhuail iad air a chéile
‘S àrd a leumamaid a’ tilleadh,
‘S ghabh sinn a mach air an abhainn,
A’ dol g’ar n-amhaich anns an linne.

‘N am do dhaoinibh dol ‘nan éideadh
Los na reubalaich a thilleadh,
Cha do shaoil sinn gus ‘n a ghéill sinn,
Gur sinn fhéin a bhite ‘g iomain;
Mar gun rachadh cù ri caoraibh,
‘S iad ‘nan ruith air aodainn glinne,
‘S ann mar sin a ghabh iad sgaoileadh
Air an taobh air an robh sinne.

Sin an uair thàinig càch ‘s a dhearbh iad
Gum bu shearbh dhuinn dol ‘nan cuideachd,
‘S e ‘n trùp Gallda ‘g an robh chall sin,
Bha colainn gun cheann air cuid diubh;
‘N uair a thachair riù Clann Dòmhnaill
Chum iad còmhdhail air an uchdan;
Dh’fhàg iad creuchdan air an reubadh,
‘S cha leighiseadh léigh an cuislean.

Bha na h-eich gu crùidheach, srianach.
Girtach, iallach fiamhach trupach;
‘S bha na fir gu h-armach fòghlaimt’,
Air an sònrachadh gu murtadh;
‘N uair a dh’aom sinn bhàrr an t-sléibhe
‘S móran feum againn air furtachd,
Na bha beò bha cuid dhiubh leòinte,
‘S bha sinn brònach mu na thuit ann.

Dh’éirich fuathas anns an ruaig dhuinn
‘N uair a ghluais an sluagh le leathad;
Bha Prionns’ Tearlach le ‘chuid Frangach
‘S iad an geall air teachd ‘nar rathad;
Cha d’fhuair sinn focal comannd
A dh’iarraidh ar naimhdean a sgathadh,
Ach comas sgaoilidh feadh an t-saoghail,
‘S cuid againn gun fhaotainn fhathast.

Sin ‘n uair thàinig mise dhachaigh
Dh’ionnsaigh Ghill-easbuig o’n Chrannaich,
‘S ann a bha e ‘n sin cho fiadhta
Ri broc liath a bhiodh an garaidh;
Bha e duilich anns an am sin
Nach robh ball aige r’a tharraing,
‘S mór an dìobhail na bha dhìth air,
Claidheamh sinnsireachd a sheanar.

Móran iarainn air bheag faobhair,
Gum b’e sud aogas a’ chlaidhimh,
‘S e gu lùbach leumnach bearnach,
‘S bha car cam ann anns an amhaich;
Dh’fhàg e mo chruachan-sa brùite
Bhith ‘ga ghiùlan feadh an rathaid,
‘S e cho trom ri cabar feàrna,
‘S mairg a dh’fhàirdeadh an robh rath air.

‘N uair a chruinnich iad ‘nan ciadan
‘N latha sin air Sliabh na h-Eaglais’,
Bha “ratreud” air luchd na Beurla,
‘S ann daibh féin a b’éigin teicheadh;
Ged a chaill mi anns an am sin
Claidheamh ceannard Chloinn’ an Fhleisdeir,
Claidheamh beàrnach a’ mhì-fhortain,
‘S ann bu choslach e ri greidlein.

Am ball-teirmisg a bha meirgeach
Nach d’rinn seirbhis a bha dleasnach,
‘S beag an diùbhail leam r’a chunntadh,
Ged a dh’ionndraich mi mu fheasgar
‘N claidheamh dubh nach d’fhuair a sgùradh,
‘S neul an t-sùithe air a lethtaobh,
‘S beag a b’fhiù e, ‘s e air lùbadh,
Gum b’e diùgha de bhuill-deis’ e.

‘N claidheamh braoisgeach bh’ aig na daoine
Nach d’rinn caonnag ‘s nach tug buillean;
Cha robh aogas air an t-saoghal,
‘S mairg a shaothraich leis an cumasg;
‘N claidheamh dubh air an robh an t-aimhleas,
Gun chrios gun chrambaid gun duille,
Gun rinn gun fhaobhar gun cheannbheart —
Is mairg a tharladh leis an cunnart.

Thug mi leam an claidheamh beàrnach,
‘S b’olc an àsainn e ‘sa’ chabhaig,
Bhith ‘ga ghiùlan air mo shliasaid —
‘S mairg mi riamh a thug on bhail’ e;
Cha toir e stobadh no sàthadh,
‘S cha robh e làidir gu gearradh;
Gum b’e diùgha de bhuill-airm e,
‘S e air meirgeadh air an fharadh.

Chruinnich uaislean Earra-Ghàidheal
Armailt làidir de mhilisi,
‘S chaidh iad mu choinneamh Phrionns’ Tearlach,
‘S dùil aca r’a champ a bhristeadh;
‘S iomadh fear a bh’ anns an àit’ ud
Nach robh sàbhailt mar bha mise,
A mheud ‘s a dh’fhàg sinn anns an àraich
Latha Blar na h-Eaglais’ Brice.

Written by David Rosser Owen

April 2, 2009 at 8:48 pm

Posted in Uncategorized