Re: Herd's cottage

On Wed, 31 Oct 2007 08:45:03 +0000, Paul C <paul@xxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:

On Wed, 31 Oct 2007 04:39:47 -0000, jupiterean <jupiterean@xxxxxxxxx>
wrote:

I came across this term quite often in books with a Scottish setting.
I guess it refers to a style of cottage. Could anyone here please shed
some light on this? Also does "herd" mean "shepherd" ? Thanks.

Shepherd, cowherd, goatherd ......

In my milieu, the shepherd was "The Herd", the cowherd was "The
Cattleman" and nobody herded goats, although quite a few people kept a
goat for the milk. I haven't tasted goat milk since I left the
Highlands.

If you want to see Highland cattlemen at work, you have to go to
Argentina and Patagonia. You'll find their descendants working cattle
in the US and Canada and indeed there is even a Gaelic cowboy song!

One of Coigach's claims to fame is that one of its native sons, Murdo
George MacLean (Mordaidh Sheorais), was one of many men who emigrated
to Montana during the early 1900s to work as shepherds, cattlemen and
cowboys. They weren't the only Gaels to go to Montana, some came from
Cape Breton in Canada, Montana Dan being one of the best remembered.

Many wrote songs, but one in particular is still known and even sung
to this day; a genuine, Gaelic cowboy song called: Mo Shoraidh leis a'
Coigich - Farewell to Coigach, written by Mordaidh Sheorais around
1910. Mordaidh Sheorais' dream, like so many Gaels, was to save enough
money to return to Scotland, marry and settle down, but others stayed
to help settle the North American West.

Some men returned to Europe, only to die in the trenches in the Great
War of 1914-1918.

This song is totally unique and priceless and must be one of the few
preserved songs written in Gaelic in the American West.

At this point I must acknowledge my debt to George Seto of Chebucto,
Nova Scotia, whose encyclopedic knowledge of Gaelic affairs in
Scotland and Nova Scotia is legendary in Gaelic circles.

Unfortuntely I have no MP3 of any group singing this song, but I do
have a link to a tiny midi recording. The tune is simple, but one
should bear in mind that the purpose of cowboys singing was to calm a
cattle herd settling down for the night and to let them know that they
were protected by their human guardians from a predator's attack.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mo Shoraidh leis a' Coigich - English translation below:
Midi tune: http://www.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=57646#907692

(I have updated the accents to the current standard and corrected some
spelling errors and omissions in the original. The spelling is
slightly irregular, but remains unchanged. )

'S ann a fhuair mi m'arach an taobh tuath de Alba Mhòr,
Far 'm bheil beanntaichean tha fasgathach is gleanntanan gu-leoir,
Far 'm bheil chlann-nighean as bòidhche 's as finealta tha beò
Is truagh nach robh mi thall leò ged bhithinn gann de'n òr

Gura h-òg a bha mi a'd ìreadh mach nan stùc
Le mo bhata callainn 's le'm bhreacan tartan ùr
Is le mo chuilean ròmach a b'fheàrr chaidh riamh air sgrìlob
Is Màiri Ruadh gam' chàineadh le canain gun bhrigh.

Mo bheannachd mhòr le Màiri bho'n 's i piuthar m' athar i,
B'aoibhneach a bhitheadh i's i feitheamh nochd rium fhè'
Ach 's duilich nochd's is cianail i, 's mi sgrìob a null air sàil,
'S mi còrr 's tri mìle mile bho Alba ghorm an fheòir.

Mo shoraidh leis a' Coigich 's le Beinne Mhòr a' cheò,
Meall Dubh 'is Spicean Cointich far'n robh mi aotrom òg,
Tha chaora mhaol as bòidhche a' cromadh bàrr an fheòir,
Is buachlaichean le suain orra a' buachailleachd nan uan òg.

'S ann tha mi'n diugh nam chiòbair aig sàil nam beanntan mòr,
Far 'm bheil madadh-allaidh 's leomhann is tiògairean go leòir,
Tha iad h-uile latha mu'n cuairt dhomh 's mi buachailleachd mo
sprèidh.
'S cha bhithinn fhéin glè shàbhailte gun mhusgaid bhi 'nam dhòrn.

An am dol fodha na grèine bithidh sprèidh dol sios do'n chrò
'S bi mi fhèin a 'teàrnadh leò 's mi acarach gu leòir
Cha bhi bean-taigh cur furan orm no deasachadh mu'n bhòrd
Cha bhi a h-aon cur fàilt' orm, ach fàrdach bhàn gun cheò.

Bha mi 'n dè 's an aonach a'sealg air damh nan cròic
Co chithinn ach mo nàbuidh Aonghus Mòr MacLeoid.
Is thug sinn greis air còmhradh mu'n tìr 's an robh sinn òg,
Is mu'n chlann-nighean as bòidhche nach diultadh dhuinn am pòg.

Nuair a thig an sàmhradh bith gach craobh is flùr fo bhlàth.
Is bithidh mi-fhèin a'smaointeachadh a dhol a rithis thar sàil,
Far 'm bi cairdean le aoibhneas toirt crathadh dhuinn de'n làmh,
'S ged chosgadh a bonn òrr dhuinn gun òladh sinn deoch slàint.

Ach n'uair a thig an geàmradh, bithidh srann aige is sèisd.
Bithidh na buachaillean sàmhraidh dol gann air fortan fhèin.
'S na bailtean bios iad; lionmhor agus deoch slainte chèil,
Ach 's arm bhios clann nan Gàidheal air mullach bheann is shlèibh.

Tha còrr is seachd bliadhna le thriall mi as air falbh
'S a ghabh mi slàint le Alba, 's gach caraid innt' tha tàmh.
Is ged bu chruaidh an sàr a gun fhios an tillinn beò;
'S a chailin donn a dh'fhàg mi a sgàin mo chridhe le bròn.

O Eilean Alba dhomhsa seach cos tha fo'n a' ghrèin',
Cha'n iarrainn òr no airgiod ann no fortan bhi da rèir.
Ach dh'fhanainn fad mo latha ann le saoibhreas a bhiodh crion,
Le m' ribhinn mhaiseach bhòidheach a Eilean Dubh mo mhiann.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Farewell to Coigach" - Translated by Sandie Fraser of Achikltibuie

I was reared in the North of Scotland
Where there are mountains sheltering many glens,
Where there are young women who are more beautiful and polite than
women elsewhere,
Such a pity I was not now with them although I would be short of
money.

I was very young when I used to climb the pinnacles
with my hazel walking stick and my new tartan plaid.
And with my rough-haired young dog, the best that ever rounded up the
sheep tracks.
And red-haired Mary scolding me in language without substance.

My great blessings with Mary because she is my father's sister,
How joyful she would be waiting for me coming home at night,
But tonight she is sad and pensive while I am a long way across the
sea.
More than twice three thousand miles from the green grass of Scotland.

My farewell to Coigach and Ben Mor of the mists
With its outcrops of Spicean Cointich and Black Rock, cone-shaped.
I was young and light-footed where the bald sheep are bonny cropping
the tips of the grass.
And shepherds, having forty winks, herding the young lambs.

Today I am a keeper at the foot of high mountains,
where there are wolves, tigers, and mountain lions (cougars) in great
numbers.
They are around me every day while I herd my animals
And I would not be very safe without a musket in my hand.

At sunset, the cattle will make their way to the fold,
and I myself will accompany them and I am very hungry.
There will be no house wife to welcome me, preparing or setting the
table
No one to welcome me except a grey fireplace without smoke.

Yesterday I was up the high mountains hunting the horned deer
Who should I meet but my neighbour tall Angus MacLeod.
We spent a while reminiscing on the land of our youth.,
and on the beautiful young girls who would not refuse our kisses.

When summer comes each tree and plant is in flower,
And I will be thinking I will cross the ocean again,
Where friends with gladness will be shaking our hands
And although it would cost us a gold piece we would drink their
health.

But when winter comes in with snorting, like a place under siege,
The summer shepherds will be spending their fortunes,
Congregating in the town saloons, drinking to their health,
But the Children of the Gaels will be on the high bens and hills.

There are more than seven years since I left my home,
And left good health to Scotland and all who live there.
And although the difficulties were stressful, and that I might not
return alive,
What distressed me most was leaving my broken-hearted sweetheart.

Oh, for the Island of Scotland, for me above any place under the sun,
I would not need to have great silver or gold,
I would remain there, with little wealth,
with the beautiful young maiden from the Black Isle, of my desire.

There's also an authentic herding song from the MacRae country, called
"Theid Mi Dhachaidh", (I will go home) or "Cro Chinn T-Saile " (Cattle
at the head of the salt; that is, where the sea loch ends.
I don't have a tune for it though.

(Courtesy of An Comunn Gaidhealach,
many thanks to them for their kindness)

Sèist/Chorus
Theid mi dhachaidh ho ro dachaidh,
Theid mi dhachaidh chrò Chin t-Saìle,
Theid mi dhachaidh ho ro dhachaidh,
Theid mi dhachaidh chrò Chinn t-Saìle.

Rann/Verse 1
Theid mi fhìn, leam fhìn, leam fhìn ann,
Theid mi fhìn, leam fhìn a Geàrrloch,
Theid mi fhìn, leam fhìn, leam fhìn ann
'S gabhaidh mi 'n rathad mòr Chinn t-Saìle.

Rann 2/Verse 2
Bi mi nochd am buaile Phearsain,
Bi mi 'n a chuid mhart am màireach.
Bi mi nochd am buaile Phearsain,
Bi mi 'n a chuid mhart am màireach.

English words, from Talitha MacKenzie's "Sòlas" CD

I will go home
I will go home to the cattlefold of Kintail.
I will go home
I will go home to the cattlefold of Kintail.

I will go myself, by myself, there
I will go myself, by myself to Gairloch.
I will go myself, by myself, there
I will take the high road to Kintail.

Tonight I will be in the parson's cattlefold,
Tomorrow I will be with the cattle
headed for the slaughter
Tonight I will be in the parson's cattlefold,
Tomorrow I will be with the cattle
headed for the slaughter.

(She adds another verse:)

I will go to Urray, to reap the sea-bent
I will go to Urray with you, my love
I will go to Urray, to reap the sea-bent
I will go to Urray with you, my love.

My note: Sea bent is another name for bent grass or marram grass, a
hardy grass which grows at the sea edge and was used in the past for
thatching and weaving and which also holds beaches together. In Gaelic
it is called Muran (say MOO-ran) and the Outer Hebrides are sometime
called Tìr a' Mhurain - Land of marram grass (Say Cheer ah Voo-rin).
There is also a lovely song called Eilean a' Mhurain (aka. Fàgail
Bràigh Bhalla), sung by the legendary Màiri NicArtair (Màiri
MacArthur) of Tiree.

(In Gaelic Nic means daughter; in Irish, it's Ni,
Mac means son. The "of" part is buried in the actual name. Thus the
well known singer Magaidh NicAonghais is Maggie, daughter of Angus,
which in English comes out as Maggie MacInnes. (I couldn't resist a
taste of pedantry).
.

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