O Nighean Donn nan Gobhar
(O Brown Haired Maiden of the Goats)

[listen: mp3]  [read english version]

This is a love song that I got from Peter MacLean (Peadair Jack Pheadair Chaluim Ghobha) of Rear Christmas Island. (Tapadh Leibh, A Pheadair!) In this song the young man says that although he is among fine and elegant company he would much prefer to be with his sweetheart, making merry while tending the goats. The words of this song are published in An t-Òranaiche but without the chorus. A song with a very similar chorus is well known in Scotland.

“…I find the sweetest company, in the misty may morning,
The larks above the ponds, the robins on branches in the forest…”

Ó nighean donn nan gobhar
É nighean donn nan gobhar
Trom m’ inntinn ‘is mi nad dheoghaigh
Bòidheach, laghach, mo nighean donn.

Ged a tha mi ‘nochd ‘s a’chòisridh,
Maille ri fleasgaichean bòsdail,
‘S nionagan cho rìomhach, spòrsail,
Le sìoda ‘s le sròl a’ danns’.

Nionagan cho rìomhach stràiceil,
‘S beag a chuir mi dh’ùigh ‘n an àbhachd,
‘S mòr gu’m b’annsa leam bhi mànran,
Riut, a ghràidh, air sgàth an tùim.

‘S mór gu’m b’annsa leam bhi ‘sùgradh,
Leis an nìonag chaoin-ghil, chùil-duibh,
Anns an doire; goir an smùdan,
Bun an stùic air ùrlar glinn.

‘S ann leam fhìn bu bhinne chòisridh,
Anns a’ mhadainn chéitein, cheòthar-
Uiseagan os cionn nan lòintean,
Smeòraichean air meòir ‘s a’ choill.

Siod an ceol bu bhinne chualas,
Luinneag foil aig bannal ghruagach,
Ag iomain a’chruidh-laoigh do’n bhuaile,
Cuach a’s buarach air an druim.

Lasgadh mo chridhe le gràdh dhuit,
‘Nuair a nochdadh tu air fàireadh,
‘S tu cho geal ri cobhar sàile,
‘Tighinn gu tràigh air bhàrr na tuinn.

O Nighean Donn nan Gobhar
(O Brown Haired Maiden of the Goats)

O Brown Haired Maiden of the goats,
E Brown Haired Maiden of the goats,
My mind is heavy with gone from me,
Beautiful, kind, my brown haired maiden.

Although I am tonight in jovial company,
Along with swaggering young men
And elegant and merry girls
With silk and sashes dancing.

Girls so elegant and haughty
That I take no interest in their exploits,
I would prefer to be murmuring with you
In the shadow of the knoll.

I would greatly prefer to be making merry
With the soft white, girl of the black tresses
In the grove, the call of the the ring dove
At the base of the peak.

I find the sweetest company ,
In the misty may morning,
The larks on the ponds
The robins on branches in the forest.

My heart burns with love for you,
When you apprear in the field,
You as pale as the foam on the sea
Coming ashore on top of the waves.