Nice



Mo rùn geal dìleas, dìleas, dìleas
Mo rùn geal dìleas nach till thu nall
Cha till mi fhèin riut, a ghaoi chan fhaod mi
'S ann tha mi ghaoil 'na mo laighe tinn.

Is truagh nach robh mi an riochd na faoilinn
A shnàmhadh aotrom air bhàrr nan tonn
Is bheirinn sgrìobag do'n eilean Ileach
Far bheil an rìbhinn dh'fhàg m'inntinn trom.

Thug mi mìos ann am fiabhras claoidhte
Gun dùil rium oidhche gu'm bithinn beò
B'e fàth mo smaointean a là 's a dh'oidhche
Gum faighinn faochadh is tu bhi 'm chòir.

Cha bhi mi strì ris a' chraoibh nach lùb leam
Ged chinneadh ùbhlan air bhàrr gach gèig
Mo shoraidh slàn leat ma rinn thu m'fhàgail
Cha d'thàinig tràigh gun muir-làn na dèidh.

Chorus
My faithful fair darling,
My faithful fair darling, won't you turn back to me;
I will not turn with you, my love, I cannot
For my beloved is lying ill.

I grieve I am not in the guise of a seagull,
Swimming light on top of the waves;
And I would journey to the island of Islay
Where tarries the maiden who vexes my soul.

I spent a month in the torment of fever
When each night I did not expect to survive;
The object of my thoughts each day and night
That my request be granted and you at my side.

I will not struggle with the tree I can't bend,
Though each bough be amply laden with apples;
My fond farewell to you if you have left me,
The sea never ebbs, but follows the flow