The Dreaming Sea

Posted on: February 12th, 2013 by admin

There’s Always Sunday Rithill aill The Dreaming Sea Mi le m’uilinn Early Morning Grey ‘Ic Iain ‘Ic Sheumais One More Chance Fac thu na feidh An Fhideag airgid At the end of the night Move on Calbharaigh
	There’s Always Sunday I’m not afraid I know what’s your mind It does not worry me When I hear your name sometimes it’s a blade Mostly it’s a key. And there’s always Sunday, to change your mind for the craven and the blind There’s always Sunday to change your mind And I’ll take my chances here with you tonight. You say there’s a place where two rivers meet and they flow out to the sea Your drunken grace your eloquence and your smiling face make me want to believe That there’s always Sunday, to change your mind for the craven and the blind There’s always Sunday to change your mind And I’ll take my chances here with you tonight. So offer me, one more sweet seduction I think you know by now I can take it And tell me this isn’t self destruction tell me that you think we can make it And there’s always Sunday, to change your mind for the craven and the blind There’s always Sunday to change your mind And I’ll take my chances here with you tonight.
	The Dreaming Sea The Dreaming Sea flexes in the lilac light and you’re the moon and I’m the tide cradle my head kiss me like you wish me dead breathe life into me till I feel as though I’ll never sleep again to close my eyes and feel the whole world swim till I don’t know where you end, where I begin the dreaming sea whispers its too late to be saved the next kiss could be the ninth wave the bluff clouds swell (spin) rain drops like pennies in a well we spiral down into the deep till I feel as though I’ll never sleep again to close my eyes and feel the whole world swim till I don’t know where you end, where I begin till I don’t know where you end, where I begin you and me upon the bare teeth of the rock at the mercy of the dreaming sea till I feel as though I’ll never sleep again to close my eyes and feel the whole world swim till I don’t know where you end, where I begin till I don’t know where you end, where I begin
Mi le m’uilinn Mi le m’uilinn air mo ghluin “Smuladach mi deanamh dain Shil mo shuil shuil nuair chaidh siuil Ri croinn-ura chaol ard Righ, “smo run-sa nam bard Dearcam fhathast air mo ghaol Coiseachd air slat-chaol fo sheol Seid seimh, socair, o ghaoth Tuath Gus an cuir i Cluaidh as fair Gheall a Pillidh mis, a ghraidh Buidhe nuair ni fas an t-earn Bidh mi guidhe air mo ghluin Pilleadh rium thu, ruin slan Aiseig fallain O Ghaoth Tuath Dhachaidh dhanh mo luaidh slan.
	Early Morning Grey I’m driving through the open roads of hometown The Junipers are swaying again It’s barely 5 o’clock and sunlight’s on the loch and nothing’s wrong, no nothing’s wrong I’ve been working day and night for this moment Since I shed those leaves of doubt It’s here I want to stay, in the early morning grey And I can’t change, no I can’t change No more running at the moon in all it’s splendour her face haunted me I’m staying where the days will seem much longer In the early morning grey. There’s something in this season so golden something in the lay of this land If only you and me were the child I can see we’d be all right I’m standing on the fringe of the ocean the century is closing at last It’s here I want to stay in the early morning grey and I can’t change, no I can’t change.
‘Ic Iain ‘Ic Sheumais This song celebrates a battle between the Macdonalds and Macleods at Carnis h, North Uist in 1601. The composer it is said was moved to poetry by the death throes of the young Macdonald chieftain, and sang to drown out the latter’s moans as his lifes blood seeped through his linen shirt and drenched the ground. It was a peculiarity of the gaels of Ireland and Scotland that love – love, sudden and threatning – when destroyed by death did not diminish with the passage of time. Rather, if the dull-hammer blows of fate were properly mourned and unbridled expression given to grief, love becomes a bitter kind of birth.
An fhideag airigid Co a sheinneas an fhideag airigid Ho ro hu a hu il o Mac mo righ air tighinn a dh’Alba Air lang mhar nar tri chrann airgid Air long riomhach nam ball airgid Tearlach og nan gorm shuil mealach Failte, failte mian is clui dhuit Fidhleireachd is ragha a’uil dhuit Co a chanadh nach seinninn fhin i	The Silver Whistle Who will play the silver reed (for pipe chanter), when the Son of my King is coming home? asks the bard in this song which was evidently composed before the rising of l745. While the ship in which Prince Charles had crossed from Eriskay lay in Loch nan Uamh, Moidart, it was the sound of the bagpipe from the men of Donald Cameron of Locheil – the Gentle Lochiel – that encouraged the young prince to proceed with his adventure and other clans to jo in the Stewart cause. It is a matter of historical record that hundreds of volunteers were found who were willing to play the silver reed for the homecoming of the Son of th eir King, and that thousands more made the supreme sacrifice for his dommed cause. This is surely testimony to the intensity of the affection the Jacobites had for the house of Stewart in general and for Prince Charles Edward Stewart in particular.
	At the end of the night Is your love a river of no respite? Will it carry me from the desert to the sea at the end of the night when my heart is broken when my dreams are ragged and trite when I fall too far wil you be my morning star at the end of the night Are you the reason I’m alive When I have no faith in myself Will you believe in me Will your love get me by If your love is the river of no respite if you hear my prayer I’ll be waiting for you there At the end of the night.
	Move On Imagine a place where you don’t need a name and you don’t need a licence to open your mind It’s a travelling circus of jokers and clowns a movie picture that’s one of its kind and this place is the only place where even the clergy dance in the rain and I know if I was stronger I’d change my ways and join the parade with yo u. Dirty face and oily hands, but adament of life so clean and so pure and in a perfect world the rights of man could never betray the rights of the land and this way is the only way a pilgrim’s walk a hail of song and I know if I were stronger I’d change my ways and join the parade with you. From the backstreets of this island, move on, move on To the walkways of the mainland move on.
Calbharaigh Chaneil mo shul air Calbharaigh no air Bethlehem an aigh ach air cuil ghrod an Glaschu far a bheil an lobhadh fas agus air seomar an Duneidin seomar bochdain is craidh far a bheil an aoghainn creachdainn ri aonagraich gu bhas Chaneil mo shul air Calbharaigh no air Bethlehem an aigh ach air cuil ghrod an Glaschu far a bheil an lobhadh fas Chaneil mo shul air Calbharaigh no air Bethlehem an aigh ach air cuil ghrod an Glaschu far a bheil an lobhadh fas agus air seomar an Duneidin seomar bochdain is craidh far a bheil an aoghainn creachdainn ri aonagraich gu bhas
	Evangeline Evangeline Evangeline The angel of morning is here Though the summer is over and we’re all a little older we’ll get by Evangeline Angel of morning cleave to me.