gaelic songs

Athair Ar Neamh
Enya
Athair Ar Neamh

Irish Gaelic lyrics:

Athair ar neamh, Dia linn
Athair ar neamh, Dia liom
M'anam, mo chroi, mo ghloir
Moladh duit a Dhia.

Fada an la, go samh
Fada an oiche, gan gruaim
Aoibhneas, athas, gra
Moladh duit a Dhia.

Moraim thu, o la go la
Moraim thu, o oiche go hoiche.

Athair ar neamh, Dia linn
Athair ar neamh, Dia liom
An ghealach, an ghriain, an ghaoth
Moladh duit a Dhia.

…………..

Englsh translation:

Father in Heaven, God bless us,
Father in Heaven, God bless me,
my soul, my heart, my glory,
praise be to you, oh God.

Long is the peaceful day,
long is the night without gloom,
wonder, joy, love,
praise be to you, oh God.

I praise you from day to day,
I praise you night after night.

Father in Heaven, God bless us,
Father in Heaven, God bless me,
the moon, the sun, the wind,
praise be to you, oh God.
Burning the Mother Tree- a closing song (first- draft)

Be no more, than the dry grass  moving,
Wind, no more, shackled, wind no more, measured,
In the sky larks startled warning,
Of a cliff drop, suddenly, be.
Smashing waves, no more,  wishing well, a penny
For a penance, a cockle for a shell, an open door for an exit,
Be no more, as centuries  burned the mother tree.

Sing cantata receding red-black-moon,  
Engorging jaguar, born from womb, warm-blooded,
Swift be, the sharpened blade, for the surging of the popular breed,
Emerald forest,  be no more, widen-wing-spread,
Seeking the highest point, of this momentary planet,
Where the air is fresh, above clouds, soar to find,
In stories riddled by tongue of Gaelic travel rings,
Striking whisper of being, for the present does not believe.

Be no more, an hour-glass of silent sand,
Earth-quaking, mountain and valley, churning lava within,
Be for twin sisters, one of land and one of sea,
A score for Beethoven’s song bird,
Be no more  vigilant, be no more free,
Walk ahead now, eyes cast forward, farewell, forever be.

@tycatz

Mo Leannan

Chibs x Reader where Chibs stands the reader up on their one year anniversary.

A/N - Mo leannan means my love/my sweetheart in Scottish Gaelic x

Originally posted by journeyslegend

You curse under your breath, promising to what ever God is out there, that if the moron outside doesn’t stop pissing you off, you’re not going to be responsible for your actions.

A further two minutes, and the banging continues. Slamming your book shut, you make a loud noise of agitation, stomping your way over to your bedroom window and throwing it open. “Stop throwing rocks at my house, you twat!”

“I will once you let me explain!” Chibs retorts, a small stone being tossed from one hand to the other. His ass is plonked comfortably on his Harley, his sunglasses over his eyes as he looks up at you, a slight smirk on his lips at your rage.

“Come back when Hell freezes over!” you shout, slamming your window shut forcefully, the vibration rumbling through your house. You close your eyes, breathing deeply as you try to calm yourself, your body shaking with anger.

“Fucking Scottish prick.” you mumble, another small boulder bouncing on the brickwork of your place. You knew he wouldn’t give up, that you’d eventually have to go down and talk to him before he started howling Gaelic love songs, but you’d be dammed if you didn’t leave him stewing for as long as you could manage.

You see, last night was yours and Chibs’ one year anniversary of being together. You hadn’t wanted to make a big deal, knowing that things with the club were hectic. However, your idiotic yet totally romantic boyfriend had told you he was taking you to your favourite restaurant in town, so who were you to deny him?

Wanting to look and feel your absolute best, you’d spent most of the day yesterday prepping and getting ready. Your hair was perfectly curled and your makeup as flawless as could be, the red lace dress you’d brought especially for the occasion adorning your figure. If only it hadn’t gone to waste.

You’d sat in your house, waiting ever so patiently, from seven pm to eleven pm, just waiting. Nothing. No phone call, no text. Nada.

By the time you’d took all your makeup off - well, mainly cried it off - it was around one in the morning, your phone bleeping loudly just as you’d curled up into your sheets.

Only, it wasn’t your apologetic boyfriend on the phone. No, no, no. It was your highly intoxicated boyfriend, who’d rang you to tell you he was going to stop at the clubhouse, the celebrations from locking down a difficult deal interfering with his inability to drive.

After you cussed him out and told him what a complete asshole he was, you’d ended the call and somehow fell asleep, waking up this morning to thirty seven missed calls, twenty eight messages and a heavy banging on your front door.

Pulling yourself back to the present, you decide to try and distract yourself, grabbing the basket of dirty clothes from your room and trudging down the stairs.

You almost jump out of your skin when you see Chibs leaning up against your washing machine. “How many times have I told you to lock the back door, love? You never know who might get in.”

“Thanks for the lecture. Now if you don’t mind, piss off.” You move around the kitchen, completely ignoring his presence, which is easier said than done when you can feel his eyes watching your every move.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” Chibs says softly, like he knows how easily you break when he sounds so down. “I’m an idiot, I know I am-”

“You can cut the whole ‘feeling sorry for yourself’ thing, because it’s not gonna work.” He sighs deeply from behind you as you aggressively scrub your cutlery clean, your eyes threatening to cloud over out of anger and frustration.

You throw the scrubbing brush into the bowl of soapy water, turning to face the man you wish you could dislike, your fingers gripping the wooden edge of the counter. “I sat here for hours, Filip. I was so excited to spend some proper time with you, and I just waited and waited-”

You place your head in your hands as your eyelashes dampen with tears, heavy breaths leaving your mouth as you try to control your emotions. A shuffle of feet sounds in the room before you feel calloused hands on your elbows, gripping gently, attempting to move your hands away from your face.

“M'so sorry, mo leannan.“ he whispers, his expression full of guilt as you let him pull your arms down, silent teardrops slipping down your cheeks. He wipes them away carefully, his hands cradling your face. “I fucked up, but I promise I’ll spend eternity making it up to you.“

You sniffle, looking down at the floor and refusing to meet his eyes. “It feels like I never see you anymore. I don’t want to lose you.”

He shushes you quietly, as his arms wrap around you and pull you into his warmth, you letting him as you rest your head on his shoulder. “You’re not gonna lose me, lass, I’ll never let you go.”

You don’t respond, instead choosing to snuggle in further to his chest as he rocks you slightly, eventually calming you down. “How about you go run a bath? I’ll be up with a cuppa in a few.”

“Get me something stronger, please.” you ask, pulling back and resting your hands on your boyfriends chest. You smile shyly, placing a soft kiss upon Chibs’ lips. “You gonna join me? The bath is big enough for two.”

“Aye, princess. Bit of wine and a cuddle sounds perfect to me.”

A/N - Hey guys! Hope you liked this, I wrote about half of it a while back and finished it a day or so ago :) not sure whether I’m going to post a dean winchester imagine or a happy lowman one next, I’ll see how it goes :) thanks for your support!!! Xxx

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chi mi na morbheanna

a beautiful song by the rankin family sang in gaelic
titel in english is the mist covered mountains

Alasdair Mhic Cholla Ghasda
Capercaillie
Alasdair Mhic Cholla Ghasda

“Alasdair Mhic Cholla Ghasda” is a Scottish waulking song about Alasdair Mac Colla, (c. 1610–1647) a soldier who fought in the Wars of the Three Kingdoms.

Scottish Gaelic lyrics and English translation:

Alasdair Mhic o ho (Alexander son, o ho)
Cholla Ghasda o ho (of gallant Cholla, o ho)
As do laimh-s’ gun o ho (into your hand, o ho)
Earbainn tapaidh trom eile (I would entrust heroic deeds, trom eile).
 
Chorus (after each verse):
Chall eile bho chall a ho ro
Chall eile bho chall a ho ro
Chall eile huraibh i chall a ho ro
’S haoi o ho trom eile.
 
As do laimh-s’ gun o ho (into your hand, o ho)
Earbainn tapaidh o ho (I would entrust heroic deeds, o ho)
Mharbhadh Tighearna o ho (the Lord of Ach-nam-breac, o ho)
Ach-nam-Brac leat trom eile (would be killed by you, trom eile).
 
’S ged ’s beag mi fein o ho (and although I myself was small, o ho)
Bhuail mi ploc air o ho (I threw a clot of earth on him, o ho)
Chuala mi'n de o ho (I heard yesterday, o ho)
Sgeul nach b'ait leam trom eile (a sad story, trom eile)
 
Chuala mi'n de o ho (I heard yesterday, o ho)
Sgeul nach b'ait leam o ho (a sad story, o ho)
Glaschu a bhith o ho (that Glasgow, o ho)
Dol ‘na lasair trom eile (was going down, trom eile)
 
Glaschu a bhith o ho (that Glasgow, o ho)
Dol 'na lasair o ho (was going down, o ho)
’S Obair-Dheathain o ho (and Aberdeen, o ho)
'N deidh a chreachadh trom eile (is being pillaged, trom eile).

3

Open my eyes, saltwater rain

Or the one where Derek and Stiles head to Ireland, get their cold water surf on, and maybe fall in love along the way.

inspired by this song and music video

Jamie was talking quietly when I came back. I finished my preparations, letting the deep lilt of his voice soothe me, as well as Brianna.
“I used to think of you, when ye were small,” Jamie was saying to Bree, his voice very soft. “When I lived in the cave; I would imagine that I held ye in my arms, a wee babe. I would hold ye so, against my heart, and sing to ye there, watching the stars go by overhead.”
“What would you sing?” Brianna’s voice was low, too, barely audible above the crackle of the fire. I could see her hand, resting on his shoulder. Her index finger touched a long, bright strand of his hair tentatively stroking its softness.
“Old songs. Lullabies I could remember, that my mother sang to me, the same that my sister Jenny would sing to her bairns.”
She sighed, a long, slow sound.
“Sing to me now, please, Da.”
He hesitated, but then titled his head toward hers and began to chant softly, an odd tuneless song in Gaelic. Jamie was tone-deaf; the song wavered oddly up and down, bearing no resemblance to music, but the rhythm of the words was a comfort to the ear.
I caught most of the words; a fisher’s song, naming the fish of loch and sea, telling the child what he would bring home to her for food. A hunter’s song, naming birds and beasts of prey, feathers for beauty and furs for warmth, meat to last the winter. It was a father’s song - a soft litany of providence and protection.
I moved quietly around the room, taking down the pewter plates and wooden bowls for supper, coming back to cut bread and spread it with butter.
“Do you know something, Da?” Bree asked softly.
“What’s that?” He said, momentarily suspending his song.
“You can’t sing.”
There was a soft exhalation of laughter and the rustle of cloth as he shifted to make them both more comfortable.
“Aye, that’s true. Shall I stop, then?”
“No.” She snuggled closer, tucking her head into the curve of his shoulder.
He resumed his tuneless crooning, only to interrupt himself a few moments later.
“D'ye ken something yourself, a leannan?” [“darling” in Gaelic]
Her eyes were closed, her lashes casting deep shadows on her cheeks, but I saw her lips curve in a smile.
“What’s that, Da?”
“Ye weigh as much as a full-grown deer.”
“Shall I get off, then?” she asked, not moving.
“Of course not.”
She reached up and touched his cheek.
“Mi gradhaich a thu, athair,” she whispered. My love to you, Father.
He gathered her tightly against him, bent his head and kissed her forehead. The fire struck a knot of pitch and blazed up suddenly behind the settle, limning their faces in gold and black. His features were harsh-cut and bold; hers, a more delicate echo of his heavy, clean-edged bones. Both stubborn, both strong. And both, thank God, mine.
—  Drums of Autumn, Chapter 47, “A Father’s Song”

thekingandcrown  asked:

LEAH ITS ROMMY PLEASE INDULGE ME WITH SCOTLAND AS A LOVER IDC WHAT YOU DO JUST PLS IL Y

Scotland Bf head-canons it is, ILY2! {Slight break from papa stuff} 

Scotland:

  • Although he’s known for his, Interesting cuisine. He will make you breakfast in bed, trust me when I say this: Scots are best at breakfast. No way around it, for some reason that’s what Scots can cook (Says the girl who lives in a Scottish B&B)
  • Won’t wear a kilt unless it’s a formal occasion, aka: weddings, meetings, celildhs and balls and you better believe he works it like its Gucci.
  • Speaking of ceilidhs, he will TRY to be gentle when he’s tossing his S/o across the line but he can’t help it, it’s a really aggressive traditional ball that usually ends with someone on the floor laughing (If you don’t know what a ceilidh is here is a VERY controlled version of it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBCayM6aFJQ)
  • Okay, so maybe he has a drink every so often but he’ll control how much he drinks around his S/o, he doesn’t want them to see him drunk off his ass
  • He is surprisingly strong, if his S/o would join him he’d flaunt his strength at the highland games. Because hurling logs into the air is manly here
  • Really like his hair being stroked. His favorite pass him is to have his head on his S/o’s lap with their fingers running through his hair, he might even start singing some Gaelic songs. (Plus every one I know that is a ginger has extremely soft hair, like how?)
  • His solution for stopping an argument is hugging his S/o, So just picture in the middle of a heated argument and then being engulfed into a hug by the Scotsman
  • Loves telling ghost stories and going to the haunted areas of Edinburgh, he thinks it’s adorable when his S/o clings to him like a lost pup~
  • After a while (and alot of trust tests) He’ll let his S/o meet some of his magical friends, including nessie (The wee lad)
  • Is probably one of the biggest dorks you’ll ever meet, It’s probably a monthly occurrence to find him in blue paint, shirtless with a sword in one hand yelling “FREEDOM” At Arthur, who came to drop off some paperwork…

anonymous asked:

Hi! Saw your last book post and could you maybe post Brianna telling Jamie that she is pregnant or Brianna giving birth? Still have to buy the books but I just love spoilers so :D

Yes, of course.  Um… let’s go with Brianna telling Jamie she’s pregnant. At this point Claire knows and Bree is very nervous to tell Jamie.


Ciamar a tha tu, mo chridhe?” he said suddenly. It was his customary greeting to her, the beginning of their evening Gaelic lesson, but his voice was different tonight; soft, and very gentle. How are you, darling? His hand turned and covered hers, cradling her long fingers. 

Tha mi gle mhath, athair,” she replied, looking a bit surprised. I am well, Father. Normally he began the lesson after dinner. 

Slowly he reached out with his other hand and rested it gently on her stomach. 

An e ’n fhirinn a th’agad?” he asked. Do you tell me true? I closed my eyes and let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. No need to break all the news, after all. And now I knew the reason for his taut-strung strangeness; he knew, and whatever the knowledge cost him to hold, hold it he would, and treat her gently. 

She didn’t know enough Gaelic yet to tell what he’d asked, but she knew well enough what he meant. She stared at him for a moment, frozen, then lifted his sound hand to her cheek and bent her head over it, the loose hair hiding her face. 

“Oh, Da,” she said, very quietly. “I’m sorry.” 

She sat quite still, holding to his hand as though it were a lifeline. 

“Ah, now, m’ annsachd,” he said softly, “it will be all right.” 

“No, it won’t,” she said, her voice small but clear. “It can’t ever be right. You know that.” 

He glanced at me out of habit, but only briefly. I couldn’t tell him what to do, now. He drew a deep breath, took her by the shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. 

“All I know,” he said softly, “is that I’m here by ye, and your mother, too. We willna see ye shamed or hurt. Not ever. D’ye hear me?” 

She didn’t answer or look up, but kept her eyes on her lap, her face hidden by the rich fall of her hair. A maiden’s hair, thick and unbound. His hand traced the shining curve of her head, then his fingers trailed along her jaw and lifted her chin so her eyes looked into his. 

“Lizzie’s right?” he asked gently. “It was rape?” 

She pulled her chin away and looked down at her knotted hands, the gesture as much an admission as her nod. 

“I didn’t think she knew. I didn’t tell her.” 

“She guessed. But it’s no your fault, and dinna ever think so,” he said firmly. “Come here to me, a leannan.” He reached for her, and gathered her awkwardly onto his knee. 

The oakwood creaked alarmingly under their combined weight, but Jamie had built it after his usual sturdy fashion; it could have held six of him. Tall as Brianna was, she looked almost small cradled in his arms, her head tucked into the curve of his shoulder. He stroked her hair gently, and murmured small things to her, half in Gaelic. 

“I’ll see ye safe marrit, and your bairn wi’ a good father,” he murmured to her. “I swear it to ye, a nighean.” 

Keep reading

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A song from Old Gaelic Ireland

Outlander | vi. The Search

i. A’ Mhaighdeann Bharrach (The Barra Maiden) – Maggie MacInnes | ii. Oran an Tombaca (Tobacco Song) – Dàimh | iii. Dowie Dens O’ Yarrow – Jean Redpath | iv. Dull and Boring – Chris Stout, Finlay MacDonald | v. Jamie – Heather Heywood | vi. Neil Gow’s Lament on the Death of his Second Wife – Abby Newton | vii. Piobaireachd Dhomhnuill Dhuibh (Pibroch Of Black Donald) – Ishbel MacAskill | viii. The Battle of Waterloo / Roca House – Fara

Anon-Omegaverse Update: Uh, I hope it would be next weekend. But not really sure, I am behind schedule for this one, as I am remaking part 4 sketches, for the third time now… Have a good weekend for you too!

@kinkykatsudon: Hello, Anon! Yes, it was Irish Gaelic, from a traditional song! It is wonderful to hear that it was a beauty in the original language as well! *hugs you

Anon-Omegaverse Doujin: Thank you so much for your words! I love omegaverse stories as well! I am not sure about the doujinshi plan, If I made doujinshi out of it, I shall let you know. 

Anon-9 years old singing death: A-anon… ^^;;;

anonymous asked:

do you know any good scottish songs in gaelic? am trying to listen to more

Worth checking out the band, Mànran! There’s also a good few songs by Runrig sung in Gaelic!