The singer is Lauchie Gillis of Grand Mira, Cape Breton. Non-Jacobite governments recruited into the army many who had Jacobite sympathies, both as punishment and to persuade them to be loyal to the Hanoverians. The composer of this song was one of those disillusioned Jacobite soldiers.
Och Ho Rò, ‘Ille Dhuinn, 1972. Lauchie Gillis. T-348. Beaton Institute, Cape Breton University.
Artist
Lauchie Gillis
Lyrics
Och Ho Rò, ‘Ille Dhuinn
Sèist
Och ho rò, ‘ille dhuinn,
‘llle dhuinn bhòidhich –
Och ho rò, ‘ille dhuinn.
1. Gur e mis’ tha fo mhulad,
Giùlan cular Rìgh Deòrsa.
2. Mi bhith giùlan a’ ghunna,
Ann an Cuideachd a’ Chòirneil.
3. Fhuair sinn òrdan bhith màrsadh
Gu sràid nan ceum còmhnard.
4. Gu sràid nan ceum socrach
Nach dochainn ar brògan.
5. Luchd nan còtaichean ruadha,
‘G an cur seachad dhan Òlaind.
6. Gur ann feasgar Disathuirn’
Thug sinn cath a bha deònach.
7. B’ iomadh tè bha gun chèile,
An àm èirigh Didòmhnaich.
8. Agus nighean fir fearainn
Bha na laighe na h-ònrachd.
9. An dèis a cèile thoirt uaipe,
Is chan fhuasgail an t-òr e.
10. E na shìneadh ‘s an luachair,
‘S fhuil mu ghuaillnean a’ dòrtadh.
11. Thoir bhuam soiridh thar mhonadh
Gu Muile nam mòr-bheann.
12. Far an goireadh a’ chuthag
Anns gach bruthach ro ‘n Bhealltainn.
13. Thoir bhuam soiridh gu m’ mhàthair,
‘S gur i dh’ àraich glè òg mi.
14. Soiridh eile gu m’ phiuthar,
Tha i ‘m chumha gu brònach.
15. Agus soiridh gu m’ leannan;
Thèid mi dhachaidh ma ‘s beò mi.
Translation:
Och Ho Rò, Brown-Haired Lad
Chorus
Och ho rò, brown-haired lad,
Beautiful brown-haired lad.
Och ho rò, brown-haired lad.
1. I am full of sorrow,
Carrying King George’s colours.
2. Carrying the gun,
In the Colonel’s Company.
3. We got the order to march
To the street where you walk gently.
4. To the street of smooth steps
That will not harm our boots.
5. Those with the red coats,
Going across to Holland.
6. It was on a Saturday evening
That we fought a battle willingly.
7. Many wives were without husbands
When dawn broke on Sunday.
8. And daughter of a landlord
That was lying alone.
9. Her husband taken from her,
And gold will not bring him back.
10. Stretched out among the rushes,
His blood pouring over his shoulders.
11. Bear my greeting across the moor
To Mull of the high mountains.
12. Where the cuckoo calls
On each brae before May-day.
13. Take my greeting to my mother
Who nurtured me when young.
14. Take my greeting to my sister
Who laments for me sadly.
15. And take my greeting to my sweetheart:
I will go home if I survive.