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End London Rule

Friday, 17 June 2011

An Clàrsair (the harper)

Well there you go.....What a celebration the last few months have been...69 seats returned of a Nationalist persuasion ....is the ending of London Rule finally just around the corner?
Firstly let’s take some credit to all you out there who have spent a life time working towards this day. Let’s not forget those who are sadly not with us in body but with us in soul...


From us a word of caution. We still face a huge struggle, one the British have had loads of experience in dealing with. Today we stand taller as a Nation but we must not let the euphoria remove our guard or dampen our fire. 69 seats in a Westminster styled Scottish Parliament is but another step on the road. Only when Scotland removes all semblance of London Rule will Scotland finally stand Free.......We still have a fair bit to go.....Do not be complacent... we must END LONDON RULE once and for all.


On the eve of one of our most famous victories over oppression when those of the community of the realm joined with its so called nobility in defeating the yoke of London rule. We remember Bannockburn 1314 in the proud words of another of our famous Bards......Dhòmhnaill Iain Dhonnchaidh, (Donald John MacDonald)

Dhaingnich m’ ùidh sna làthean tràth sin
An dùthaich chaomh Cheilteach m’ àraich-
Alb’, a dh’ìobair tric a laochraidh
An adhbhar fuilteach na soarsa:
Eachdraidh charraideach mo shinnsreadh
B’ ann san t-seòlaid seo bha m’ inntinn
Ruith air ais gu tìmean àrsaidh
Air an fheasgar shamhraidh bhlàth seo.

My interest awakened in those early days
In the dear Celtic land of my upbringing-
Scotland, that oft sacrificed its warriors
In the bloody cause of freedom:
The turbulent history of my ancestors-
This the course my mind was on
Running back to olden times
On this warm summer evening.

Ach ar leam gun cualas fann-ghuth-
Mionghalan mar ghaoith an calltainn-
‘S dh’aithnich mi teud bhinn na clàrsaich
Fo mheur shiùbhlach an Aos-dàna:
Dh’èist mi ri gleac-theud an tiùmpain
‘S dhùisgeadh m’ fhonn le pong a’ chiull seo,
‘S seall, ‘s ann dhiùc nam shealladh clàrsair
‘S a chruit-chùil fo iùil a shàr-mheur

But I thought I heard a faint sound-
Rustling like wind in the hazel woods-
And I recognised the sweet strings of the harp
Under the nimble fingers of the Ancient Bard:
I listened to the strings of the instrument
And my spirit was stirred by the music’s notes,
Lo, a harper appeared in my sight
Playing his harp with expert fingers.

Ged bha biùg a’ chiùll leam aotram,
Leugh mi cianalas na aodann,
‘S ged bha bil’ a bheòl a’ gluasad
Cha robh bhriathr’ a’ ruigheachd chluasan
Nuair theann a làthaireachd dlùth rium,
Thog a làmh o bhàrr an tiùmpain,
‘S las a shùil le ùidh an fhilidh
‘S ghlaodh e cruaidh, “Gu buaidh mo thilleadh!”

Though I thought the music light
I read sadness in his face,
And though his lips were moving
His words did not reach my ears.
As I drew close to his presence
He lifted his hand from his harp,
His eyes lit with the interest of the bard
And he cried out. “TO THE SUCCESS OF MY RETURN!”

“’S mise,” thuirt e, “seann aos-dàna
Chleachd bhith seinn le aobhneas àrdaicht’
Cliù mo dhùthcadh ‘s tùirn a laochraidh
An cath doilgheasach na soarsa:
“Seall do dhùthaich!” ghlaodh an clarsair,
“Cà’il an t-saorsa daor thug càch dhut-
Cuimhnich, s’ fior fhuil bhlàth nad bhroilleach,
Drochaid Shruighleigh ‘s Allt a’ Bhonnaich.”

“I am” he said, “an ancient bard”
Accustomed to sing with noble joy
My country’s fame and its heroes’ deeds
In the bitter battle for freedom
“Behold your country!” cried the harper,
“Where’s the freedom dear bought by others,
Remember with true hot blood in your breast
Stirling Bridge and Bannockburn.”

An sin thog e chruit is ghleus e,
‘ S mise fo gheasaibh ag èisteachd,
‘S mar as cuimhne leam an tràith seo
B’ e seo briathran an Aos-dana:

Then he took up and turned his harp,
And I listened spellbound;
As I remember it now
These were the words of the Ancient:

Duan I
Albainn nam buadh
Fo chasan luchd fuath,
Fo chasan luchd fuath,
Tha Albainn nam buadh;
Tha Sasainn gur ruaig
Le leannanachd fhur’
O, Brus agus Uallas, èiribh!
O, Brus agus Uallas, èiribh!

Scotland of the virtues,
Downtrodden by tyrants,
Downtrodden by tyrants,
Is Scotland by the virtues;
England pursues you
With cold wooing,
Oh, Bruce and Wallace, arise!
Oh Bruce and Wallace, arise!

A thannasg nan laoch
A bhuinnig an t-saors’,
A bhuinnig an t-saors’,
A thannasg nan laoch
Ler fuil a bha daor
Ga stealladh san fhraoch,
O, faicibh ar laoigh gur trèigsinn
O, faicibh ar laoigh gur trèigsinn

Ye ghosts of heroes
Who won freedom,
Who won freedom,
Ye ghosts of heroes,
With your precious blood
Splashed in the heather,
Oh see your young desert you,
Oh see your young desert you.

O, faicibh an dream
Tha ‘n-diugh feadh nan glean,
Tha ‘n-diugh feadh nan glean,
O, faicibh an dream
Do Shasainn nan clan
A’ miodal mun lann
Bha gearradh, ‘s b’ e’ n call, ur fèithean,
Bha gearradh, ‘s b’ e’ n call, ur fèithean,

Oh, see what a tribe
Today in the glens,
Today in the glens,
Oh see what a tribe,
As children of England
Fawning about the blade
That cut, alas, your sinews,
That cut,alas your sinews.

Mo chreach an taobh tuath
Sna thuinich mo shluagh,
Sna thuinich mo shluagh,
Mo chreach an taobh tuath
Raon-cleasachd luchd-truaill,
A guth anns an uaigh
‘S gun spiorad na sluagh a dh’èireas,
S gun spiorad na sluagh a dh’èireas.

Alas for the north
Where my people grew,
Where my people grew,
Alas for the north,
A playground for vandals,
Its voice in the grave,
Its people without spirit to rise,
Its people without spirit to rise.

Duan II
A shliochd nan curaidh a bha,
Bithibh ullamh gun sgàth,
Seasaibh duineil ri càch-a-chèile.

Decent of warriors of old
Be ready without fear,
Stand manly one with another.
Seall ur dùthaich fo thàir
‘S if o mhùiseag aig gràisg
Tha gur cunntais nur tràillean feumail.

See your country despised
In the grip of a rabble
Who rate you only as useless slaves.

Chaidh ur saors’ a thoirt bhuaibh,
Chaidh ur daoine thar chuan,
Chaidh ur glinn a thoirt suas do sprèidhean.

Your freedom was taken,
Your people sent overseas,
Your glens given up to herds.

Tha sibh cùmte fon t-sàil
Bhon as tùs dhuibh gu bàs
A shliochd nan diùnlach dham b’ àbhaist euchdan

You are pinned under the heel
From your birth until death,
Seed of warriors accustomed to deeds.

Càit eil spiorad an t-sluaigh
A bha tuineadh san tuath-
‘N deach a phronnadh ‘s nach dual dha èirigh?

Where is the spirit of the people
Reared in the north
Was it crushed so it cannot rise?

Spiorad buadhmhor na saors’
Nach laigheadh suimhneach fo dhaors’
Aig maithean fuadain fo dhraodhachd bhreugan.

Triumphant spirit of freedom
That could not rest quiet in thrall
To wild wolves under the spell of lies.

Tilgibh dhibh a’ ghlas-làmh,
Gearraibh fideag no dhà
Ri luchd-cis Talla Bhàn nam breun-ghuth.

Throw off the manacles
Whistle once or twice
At the tax-makers of false Whitehall.

‘S bi mar shluagh sibh air thus
Nuair thèid ailm air ur stiùir
Ann an ceanna-bhaile cùbhr’ Dhun-èideann.

Be a people you were
Whe your rudder has a helm
In the sweet capital of Edinburgh.

Duan III
Oh sibhse dha bheil fearalas
Is duinealas na dhualchas
An ùraich tùirn ur seanairean
Gu caithris às ur suain sibh?

O you to whom courage
And manliness are in your blood,
Will the deeds of your grandfathers
Awake you from slumber?

Ma ‘s Albannaich as airidh sibh
An t-ainm a bhith ri aithris ribh,
Na sealbhaichibh mar ailis oirbh
Ainfhiosrachd an cruadal.

If you are worthy of
Being called Scottish
Do not accept being accused
Of ignorance and hardship.

‘S e fearann Alb’ as coir-bhreith dhuibh
‘S ur beòshlaint air a luaidh ann,
‘S O, seasaibh daingeann còmhla air
Is còmhraigibh gu buaidh air.

Scotland’s land is your birthright
Your livelihood celebrated there-
O stand firm together on it
And fight for victory:

Na fuilinigibh tir nan garbh-bheann bhith
Ga blioghadh dhibh le cealgaireachd,
O, sealbhaichibh mar Albannaich
An dearbh-bhiùthas bu dual dhuibh.

Do not suffer the land of mountains
To be stripped of you by fraud,
Oh, enjoy as Scots
The true glory of your heritage.
*****************************

Theirig bin-cheòl mìn na clàrsal
Stad gleac-mheur an fhìor aos-dàna,
Thog na geasan ciùil bhàrr m’ inntinn,
‘S bha mi air a’ chnoc leam fhin ann:
Mheòraich mi air brigh nam briathran
A chualas bhon chlàrsair liath leam,
‘S los gun cluinnte bhuam le càch e,
Sgriobh mar chual’ mi duan a’ chlàrsair.

The harp’s sweet music faded,
The old bard’s nimble fingers stilled,
The music’s spell lifted from my mind,
And I was on the hill alone:
I thought over the meaning of the words
I had heard from the grey harper
And, so that others might hear them,
I wrote as I heard it the harper’s lay.

Falladh Lunnainn Deadh

END LONDON RULE!!!!!



To Dun! "fear saorsa". Alba gu brath!

2 comments:

  1. saor alba the torries have no rite to rule scotland with on 1 scottish MP free scotland no union

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