DEIRDRE GRAHAM
Scottish Gaelic Singer
URRANTA is the long-anticipated release from Gaelic singer Deirdre Graham. Comprising a series of traditional songs that have long inspired Deirdre, the album is rooted in the sounds of her native home on the Isle of Skye and its surrounding areas. Introducing Deirdre’s raw and evocative vocals, highlighted by a rich orchestrated soundscape, URRANTA is a celebration of the Gaelic singing traditions and an expression of their reach across different musical worlds.
This album is a triumphant homage to the composers of its songs who spoke out boldly in reaction to war, political struggle, exile, and who championed female empowerment and love.
The sound of URRANTA is enriched by a string quartet; elevating the songs from their traditional beginnings into a contemporary genre, the strings weave together elements of classical and film music to create an expansive tone across all of the tracks. These bold arrangements are beautifully emphasised by the musicianship of a number of esteemed Scottish artists.
Recorded at Gran’s House Studio in Lamington, this album teamed Deirdre with producer and musician Angus Lyon (Blazin’ Fiddles). It also features the talents of prolific musicians Seonaid Aitken (BBC Jazz Nights), Kristan Harvey (Blazin' Fiddles), Patsy Reid, Alice Allen, James Lindsay (Breabach), and Ruairidh Graham (Niteworks), all of whom bring an energy and passion to the music that is evident on each track throughout the rise and fall of the album’s story.
“Deirdre’s singing is always assured and has a rare clarity; she makes you hear songs in a
different way.”
John Waltham, The Living Tradition
"Gorgeous and ethereal Gaelic vocal."
Music Republic Magazine
“These tales… acquire added drama and range from person-to-person intimacy through the rugged and filmlike to the rocking out of ‘Òran Mòr Scoirebreac’ before closing with the murmuring ‘Uamh An Òir’. “
⭐⭐⭐ Rob Adams, Songlines
"...such is the craft and creation of this cleverly constructed and contemporary take on traditional songs, and hopefully their 2020 treatment will play its part in preserving these traditional songs."
John Reed, Fatea Magazine
NA H-ÒRAIN | THE SONGS
01 Seinneam Cliù nam Fear Ùr
(I Will Sing in Praise of the New Men)
Composed Iain Dhòmhnaill Bhàin (John MacLeod)
Arranged Graham/Lyon
This song commemorates the young men who fought in the Great War. Iain Dhòmhnaill Bhàin was too old himself to fight and so he composed this song in their honour.
I first heard this sung by Maggie MacDonald and was struck by its poignant simplicity.
Text: Fonn The Campbells of Greepe
Seinneam cliù nam fear ùr,
Gillean glùn-gheal nam breacan,
Fèileadh beag os cionn nan glùn,
Èideadh sunndach nan gaisgeach.
Seinnam cliù na dh’fhàg Port Rìgh
Fon cuid phìoban is bhreacan;
Leam bu mhiann a bhith nan cùl;
Miann mo shùil bhith gam faicinn.
Seinneam cliù na dh’fhalbh à Slèit’,
Gillean treun nach roch meata,
Chaidh a dhìon an crùn ’s an tìr
Bhon a’ mhìlltear gun cheartas.
Bidh an cliù ga shèinn gu bràth
Fhad ’s bhios tonn air tràigh no cladach;
Fhad ’s bhios grian air àird nan speur;
Mairidh spèis do na gaisgich.
I will sing in praise of the new men,
White-kneed lads in their tartan,
The short kilt above the knee,
Brave attire of the heroes.
I will sing in praise of all those who left Portree
Following their pipes and colours;
My dearest wish was to support them;
My eye’s desire to see them.
I will sing in praise of all who left Sleat,
Brave lads, not faint-hearted,
Who went to defend the crown and country
From the unjust oppressor.
Their praise will be sung forever,
While there is wave on strand or shore;
While there is sun in the firmament,
Respect and pride for the heroes will endure.
02 'S Gann Gun Dìrich Mi Chaoidh
(I May Never Climb Again)
Composed Tormod MacNeacail (Norman Nicolson)
Arranged Graham/Lyon
Norman composed ’S Gann Gun Dìrich Mi Chaoidh in reaction to his hunting liberties being curtailed. Where he once enjoyed the freedom of hunting on the hills (albeit not altogether lawful), new capitalist legislation saw the estate landlords tightening up on poaching and Norman was advised to stop his activities or be penalised.
We have sung this song in our family since I was a child although to a slightly different melody. I heard this lesser sung melody from the singing of Mary Ann Kennedy.
Text: Fonn The Campbells of Greepe and Songs of Gaelic Scotland
’S gann gun dìrich mi chaoidh
Dh’ionnsaigh frìth àird a’ mhonaidh;
’S gann gun dìrich mi chaoidh.
Thàinig litir à Dhun Èideann
Nach fhaotainn fhèin bhith dol don mhonadh.
Pàdruig Mòr aig Ceann Loch Àoineart
Rinn e ’n fhoill ’s nach d’ rinn e buinnig.
Tha mo ghunna chaol air meirgeadh
Cha tèid mi don t-seilg leis tuilleadh.
Thèid e chrochadh air na tàirgnean
’S cha b’ e sin leam àite fuireach.
’S iomadh latha sgìth a bha mi
Nam shuidhe leis ’s e làn air tulaich.
Gabhail sealladh air na slèibhtean
Far am bi na fèidh a’ fuireach.
Ach a-nis gur fheudar strìochdadh
’S fear gun chiall a thèid an cunnart.
Cùl mo làimh do laghan fiar’
Tha toirmeasg biadh thug Dia don duine.
I may never climb again
To the deer forests on the high moor;
I may never climb again.
A letter came from Edinburgh
Forbidding me to go to the hill.
Padraig Mor from Ceann Loch Aoineart,
He did wrong, and did not gain by it.
My slim-barrelled gun is rusted:
I will not go to hunt with it again.
It is hanging on nails,
Not to me the best place for it.
Many a weary day I was
Sitting with it, loaded, on a hill.
Viewing the slopes
Where the deer lived.
But now I must comply;
Only a fool would court danger.
I dismiss perverse laws
That deny us God-given food.
03 Moch an-Diugh a Rinn Mi Èirigh
(Early Today I Arose)
Traditional
Arranged Graham/Lyon
A waulking song from Barra. The woman is tending to cattle on a hill when she inquires about her love, Dòmhnall Donn (brown haired Donald) of Sleat (Skye). The song becomes an outpouring of her feelings as she reacts to the news that he is betrothed to another. The song escalates further and castigates the dishonourable man’s actions, hinting at a possible assault.
I learnt this song through Kenna Campbell, who has been a huge influence on me and my singing over the years.
Text: Catriona Cecelia MacNeill and Flora MacNeill, Barra
Moch an-diugh a rinn mi èirigh
Hi ri linn is ògaibh ò
Thug mi gu siubhal an t-slèibhe
Iù na hi rì rì ahù
Hi ri a hoilibho hi a hògaibh ò
Chunna mi bhuam badan sprèidhe
Air tulaich ghuirm ’s iad gun èirigh
Ghreas mi cas is chas mi ’n èighe
Dean fuireach ’s gum faighinn sgeul’ bhuat
Bheil fallaineachd aca Slèite
Aig Dòmhnall donn laogh mo chèille
Chuala mi gun d ’rinn e rèiteach
Ri nighean iarla nam brèid gheal
Nan saoilinn gum b’ fhior an sgeula
Dhòrtainn fuil ’s gun gearrainn fèithe
Ciod thuige rachainn-sa Cholla
Shealltainn air fear donn gun onair
Rinn mo leapa ’m bun an doruis
Thug bhuam mo phaidirean corrach
Early today I arose
I began to walk the slope.
I saw at a distance a small group of cattle
On a green hillock, lying down.
I hastened my step and raised a shout:
“Wait til I get news from you;
Are they well in Sleat -
Dòmhnall Donn, my dearest love?
I heard that he was betrothed
To the daughter of the earl of the white sails.
If I thought the news was true,
I would draw blood and cut a vein.”
Why should I go to Coll
To see the dishonourable man
Who made my bed by the door,
Who took my rosary?
04 Dòmhnall nan Dòmhnall
(Donald of the Donalds)
Traditional
Arranged Graham/Lyon
This is one of the few happy love songs that survives in the Gaelic song repertoire. Despite no record of a composer ever being found, the song has survived through the oral tradition. It belongs to Kintyre and describes a woman’s love for a certain ‘Donald’ who can do no wrong. He is handsome, is an effective hunter, is generous and gracious, can hold his drink and never loses at cards! The song uses imagery of Donald as a fox, hunting on the hills and her as a swan on the loch.
Text: Cliar
Thug mi sùil thar a' bhealach,
Thug mi sealladh ud bhuam
Feuch am faicinn mo leannan
Tighinn dhan bhaile san uair;
Fhir a dh'òladh an tocsaid
'S a chostadh a luach:
'S math thig bonaid ghorm dhathte
Air cùl bachlach nan dual.
B'fheàrr gu faicinn a-nuas thu
'S do ghruaidh mar an ròs,
Agus d' anail mar ùbhlan
'S do chùl mar an t-òr;
Do bheul tha dearg tana,
'S blas na meal' air do phòig:
Gur gìomanach eal' thu
Agus lach air an lòn.
Gura h-èibhinn gach àite
‘S am biodh pàirt de Chlann Nìll;
Gura h-uasal gach òigfhear
Leis an òlte am fìon;
Air chairtean ag iomairt
Gun mhionnan gun strì -
Gur ann làmh riutha shuidhinn
Is gu leiginn mo sgìths
Gura bòidheach, gura bòidheach,
Gura bòidheach na lòin,
Gura bòidheach an t-aonach
Air an sgaoileadh an ceò
Gura bòidheach an Losaid
'S Baile Ghrobain na còir
Gura bòidheach Ceann Loch
Far 'm bi mo sheachd rùn ag òl.
Dè nam biodh tu mar shionnach
Air an tulaich ud thall
Agus mise mar eala
Air bharraibh nan tonn;
Nàile! Rachainn Nad choinneamh
‘S mheallainn thu leam
Lùb ùr a' chùil chlannaich,
Ort tha m' anam an geall.
‘S a Dhòmhnaill nan Dòmhnall,
Sùil mhòdhar ad cheann;
Rìgh! Gur math thig dhut triubhais
Dhol a shiubhal nam beann;
'S cha mhios thig dhut stocaidh,
Bròg shocair 's i teann
'S tric a laigh mi ri d' thaobh,
'S ann leam a b' aobhach bhith ann.
I looked to the hill
Looked yonder
For any sign of my lover
Coming to town
He who'd drink the hogshead
And earn its worth
A blue bonnet looked well
On his curly hair
Oh to see you coming
With your rosy cheeks
Breath like apples
And golden hair
Your narrow red lips
Kisses like honey
You, the hunter of the swan
And the wild duck on the loch
Clan Neill brought pleasure
To any place
Every noble young man
Among them who'd drink wine
Playing cards
Without swearing or fighting
I'd gladly sit by them
And take my rest
How beautiful, how beautiful
How beautiful is the sight of the lochs
How beautiful is
The misty moorland
How beautiful is the Lossit
And Ballygrogan before it
How beautiful is Campbeltown
Where my love is wont to drink
How would it be if you were like the fox
On the hillock yonder
And I like the swan
On the crest of the wave
I would go to you
And entice you away
Young man of the curly hair
My soul is promised to you
Oh Donald of the Donalds
With your gentle eye
Lord, how well the trousers suit you
Going to hunt in the hills
No worse the hose
Or a well-fitting shoe
Often have I lain by your side
It is where I would be now
05 Òran Mòr Sgoirebreac
(The Big Song of Scorrybreac)
Traditional
Arranged Graham/Lyon
A fragment of a praise song for Clan Nicolson of Scorrybreac (Skye).
Text: Fonn The Campbells of Greepe
Thogarainn thogarainn bhith dol dhachaidh,
E horò, e horò
Gu Sgoirebreac a’ chruidh chaisfhinn.
E ho hì ri-i iu ò ’s i iura thogairainn falbh
Ceud soraidh slàn mar bu dual dhomh
Gu taigh mòr ’icNeacaill shuas ud,
Far am bu tric a shuidh na h-uaislean;
Rìgh Seumas a Còig ’s a shluagh ann,
Na cùirtearan glana suairce.
I greatly wish to go home
To Scorrybreck of the white legged cattle,
I wish to go.
A hundred farewells from me as was customary,
To the great house of Nicolson up yonder,
Where often sat the nobility;
King James the Fifth and is retinue,
The handsome, pleasant courtiers.
06 Tha Mi Sgìth 'n Fhògar Seo
(I am Tired of this Exile)
Composed John MacRae
Arranged Graham/Lyon
John MacRae composed this song while in exile in North Carolina. He found himself fighting in the American Wars of Independence on the side of the British Army. He is dwelling in a small hut “without smoke” so as not to bring attention to himself, and his thoughts are returning to his homeland of Kintail, near Skye.
My thanks to Kenna Campbell for introducing sharing this song with me.
Text: Beyond the Hebrides - Fada air Falbh às Innse Gall
Tha mi sgìth ’n fhògar seo
Tha mi sgìth dhen an t-strì
Seo an tìm dhoiruinneach
Tha mi sgìth ’n fhògar seo.
Ged a tha mi fo ’n choille,
Chan eil coire ri chomhdach orm.
Ach mi sheasamh gu dìleas
Leis an rìgh bhon bha choir aige
Mi air fogradh bhon fhoghar
Deanamh thaighean gun cheo annta.
Ann am buthaig bhig bharraich
Is gun charaid gam fheoraich ann.
Ach nam bithinn aig baile
Gheibhinn cairdean ’s luchd eolais ann.
Ach nan tigeadh Cornwallis
Sinn a ghluaiseadh gu sollasach.
Thoir mo shorraidh thar linne
Dh’ionnsaigh ’n glinne ’m bu choir dhomh bhi
Far am minig a bha mi
’G eisteachd gairich laogh oga aca
I am tired of exile,
I am tired of strife,
It’s a tormenting time,
I am tired of exile.
Though I’ve now been outlawed here,
There’s no wrong in what I’ve done.
Since I faithfully stood up
For the King, who was in the right.
I’m an outlaw since autumn,
Building huts without smoke in them.
It’s a little birch lean-to
Where I’m living now all alone.
But if I were in town now,
I’d have friends and companions there.
If Cornwallis were coming
We would join him with great delight.
O’er the ocean my greetings
To the glen where I’d like to be.
Where so often I used to
Hear the laughter of young people.
08 Air Fàir an Là
(At the Dawn of Day)
Màiri Nighean Alasdair Ruaidh (Mary MacLeod)
Arranged Graham/Lyon
A waulking song from the Isle of Skye that takes the listener on a journey to Dunvegan, the seat of Clan MacLeod. This song is one of a vast collection of praise poetry for the MacLeods of Dunvegan and Harris from the 17th century.
Màiri Nighean Alasdair Ruaidh was the unofficial bard and nurse to the Clan MacLeod chiefs. She was one of the first bards to compose court poetry in the vernacular. MacLeod was a force to be reckoned with, was exiled for a while and is said to have been buried face down.
Text: One Hundred and Five Songs of Occupation from the Western Isles of Scotland
Air fàir an là ill o ho
O hao ri ri o ho
Siuthadaibh siuthadaibh a mhnàthan
E ho hi ri iu o ho
Air fàir an la ill o ho
O hao ri ri o ho
Luaidhaibh athaiseach leam
E ho hi ri iu o ho
Ma thèid mi air m’adhart
Ni mi tadhal ’s an Dùn
Far eil Ruairidh mac Iain
Mac athar mo rùin
Feuch am faigh sinn a’ bhirlinn
No am faod i toirt dhuinn
Tha sinn an seo nar ceathrar
Duine bharrachd air triùir
Cha b’uilear dhuinn ochdnar
Chuireadh a’ bhirlinn air stiùir
’S e gheibh sinn an coite
’S i bu choltaiche ruinn
At the dawn of day
Begin, begin ye women
Waulk leisurely with me
If I proceed on my way
I shall call at Dunvegan
Where Ruairidh dwells, son of Iain
Son of the father dear to me
To try if we may get the galley
Or if he may give her to us
We are here, four in number
One person more than three
We should need to be eight
To put the galley on her course
What we shall get is the fishing boat
Which were more befitting for us
07 Iain Ghlinn' Cuaich
(John of Glen Quoich)
Traditional
Arranged Graham/Lyon
A heartbreaking song of unrequited love. The song begins as the woman describes Iain in beautiful detail; poring over his superlative qualities. As the song unfolds the heartbreak becomes evident as the relationship has broken up.
Some interpretations of the song have the woman taking the upper hand at the, challenging Iain to find someone better then her. I have chosen to interpret it otherwise and opted for heartbreak!
Text: Sidewaulk
O Iain Ghlinn Cuaich
Fear do choltais cha dual da fàs
Cùl bachlach nan dual
'S e gu camlùbach suas gu bhàrr
'S i do phearsa dheas ghrinn
A dh'fhàg mise cho tinn le gràdh
'S nach eil cron ort ri inns
O mhullach do chinn gu d' shàil
Ach an trian dhe do chliù
Cha chuir mise a rùin an cèill
'S caoimh faiteal dhe d' ghnùis
Na ùr choille do dhriùchd ri grèin'
Gum b' e miann mo dhà shùil
A bhith 'sealltainn gu dlùth a d' dhèidh
'S math a b' airidh mo rùn-s'
Air ban-oighre a' chrùin fo sgèith
Iain, Iain a ghaoil
Cuim' a leig thu mi faoin air chùl?
Gun ghuth chuimhn' air a' ghaol
A bh' againn araon air tùs
Cha tug mise mo spèis
Do dh'fear eile fon ghrèin ach thu
Is cha toir as do dhèidh
Gus an càirear mo chrè 's an ùir
Ged a chinn thu rium fuar
Bheil thu Iain, gun truas 's mi 'm chàs?
'S a liuthad latha agus uair
Chuir thu 'n cèill gum bu bhuam do ghràdh
Ach ma chaochaill mi buaidh
'S gun do choisinn mi t' fhuath na t' fhearg
Tha mo bheannachd ad dhèidh
'S feuch an tagh thu dhut fhèin nas fheàrr
Oh Iain of Glen Quoich
It is not often that one encounters your like
That ringletted head of hair
Curled right to the roots
It was your beautiful, handsome appearance
That left me lovesick
And there is no fault to be noted
About you from head to toe
I can't begin to express
A third of your worth
Better to catch a glimpse of your face
Than the new-grown dew-laden forest in sun
The desire of my eyes
Is to catch close sight of you
My love deserves a crowned heiress
Under his protection
Iain, Iain, my love
Why did you turn your back on me?
Without a thought for the love
That we once had
I never gave my respect
To any other man under the sun but you
And neither will I
'Til my body is beneath the ground
Although you have turned cold towards me
Are you, Iain, without pity, and I in this state?
Despite the many days and times
You told me our love was forever
But if my effect on you has changed
And earned your hate or anger
I still send you my blessing
And see that you choose a better one for yourself
09 Mairead nan Cuiread
(Tricky Margaret)
Màiri Nighean Alasdair Ruaidh (Mary MacLeod)
Arranged Graham/Lyon
Another waulking song that presents Mary MacLeod’s quick witted and bold nature. The lyrics slight ‘Tricky Margaret’ in retaliation to spreading untruths of her bearing an illegitimate child and dismissing her father’s status. MacLeod sets out to put the record straight!
Text: Hebridean Folksongs Vol III
Tha mulad, tha mulad
Tha lion dubh orm fhìn
Hi ri hoireann o, hi ri hoireann o
Mun ògannach ghasda
Ùr mhacraich nan steud
Hi ri riri oho ro ho hi hoireann o
Tha de mhighean air m’aire
Nì nach aide mo bheul
Chan innsinn dham phiuthar
Meud mo chumha ’s do dheidh
No dhan mhàthar a’ rug mi
Chuir mi cudthrom na ceum
Tha sac trom air mo chridhe
Nach tog fidheall nan teud
Mun taca seo ’n uiridh
Bu leat m’ fhuran ro cheud
Cha mhudh ort mi ‘m bliadhna
Na eunlaith nan speur
Ach a’ Mhairead nan Cuiread
’S dàn a chuir the orm bhreug
Thilg the orm-sa mar ailis
Nach b’ uilear dhomh ’m brèid
Gun robh leanamh am pasgadh
Fo asna mo chleibh
Cuim nach innseadh tu ’n fhirinn
Mar a dh’innsinn ort fhein?
Ann an lathair mo thighearn
Far am bithinn ’s tu reidh
Thilg thu orm-sa mar dhearrais
Gun robh m’athair an eis
Cha b’ionnan dham athair
’S dhad athair-sa fhèin
Cha b’ionnan dhar taighean
Nam laighe don ghrein
’S ann a gheibhte ’n taigh d’ athar
Cìnn is cnàmhan an èisg
’S ann a gheibhte ’n taigh m’athar
Cìnn ’s casan an fhèidh
Sorrowful, sorrowful
Melancholy am I,
About the fine young youth,
Young rider of steeds.
There is discontent on my mind
Which my lips will not confess.
I would not tell my sister
How much I am longing for you.
Nor the mother who bore me,
On whose footstep I weighed.
There is a heavy load on my heart
Which the stringed fiddle cannot raise.
This time last year
You preferred my welcome to a hundred.
You have no more regard for me this year
Than the birds of the air.
But, oh, Tricky Margaret,
Boldly you have betrayed me.
You cast up to methe reproach
That I should have a married woman’s kertch.
That an unborn babe
Was hidden in my ribs.
Why would you not tell the truth
As I would have of yourself?
In the presence of my laird
Where you and I would be on equal terms.
You attacked me like a viper, saying
That my father was in want.
Things were not alike
For my father and yours.
Things were not alike in our houses
In the evening.
In your father’s house would be found
The head and bones of fish.
In my father’s house would be found
The heads and bones of deer.
10 Uamh an Òir
(Cave of Gold)
Traditional
Arranged Graham/Lyon
Uamh an Òir entwines four songs from the supernatural repertoire; the first three songs different versions of ‘Uamh an Òir’ and the fourth song, ‘Là Millegàraidh’.
Uamh an Òir’ exists in many localities across Scotland and mythical settings but these songs refer to the cave near Kilmuir (Skye).
Legend has it that a piper from the MacCrimmon dynasty and his dog entered into the Cave of Gold to seek treasure, which was guarded by a fierce creature. It is believed that in order to survive it and escape from the cave, the piper must play continuously; the lyrics lament the fact that he does not have three hands; two to play the pipes and one to brandish a sword. The dog is said to have escaped, however, the piper did not but his playing can still be heard resonating from the cave to this day.
‘Là Millegàraidh’ commemorates the Battle of Millegàraidh, which took place at Waternish (Skye) in 1570. It is the last occasion at which the Fairy Flag was unfurled, bringing protection to the MacLeods of Dunvegan and disastrous consequences to their enemies, Clan Ranald. Having fallen under the spell of the flag (which made the MacLeod army appear to be much larger than their actual number), Clan Ranald retreated to their galleys, where they were cut down by the MacLeods.
The Fairy Flag was gifted to the MacLeods and hangs today in the Great Hall in Dunvegan Castle. It is said to provide protection three times. So far, it has only been unfurled twice...
Text: One Hundred and Five Songs of Occupation from the Western Isles of Scotland
Mo dhìth mo dhìth,
Gun trì làmhan.
Mo dhìth mo dhìth,
Gun trì làmhan.
Dà làimh ’s a phìob,
Dà làimh ’s a phìob,
Dà làimh ’s a phìob,
’S làmh ’s a chlaidheamh
’S iomadh maighdean òg bho ceud bhearr
Thèid a-null, thèid a-null
Mun tìll mise, mun ruig mise
Uamh an Òir, Uamh an Òir
E ho ro ho ro ho
An cuala sibh
O hi rìrì rìrì ho ro ho
Là na h-àirde
E ho ro ho ro ho
My loss, moy loss
That I lack three hands!
My loss, my loss
That I lack three hands!
Two hands to the bagpipe
Two hands to the bagpipe
Two hands to the bagpipe
And one to the sword
Many’s the young maiden in her first bloom
Will have gone beyond, gone beyond
Before I come, before I return
From the Cave of Gold, Cave of Gold
Remember ye
The day of the Aird