Oh mo dhuthaich (О, моя страна)

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Oh mo dhúthaich' stu th'air m'aire
Uibhist chúmhraidh úr nan gallan
Far a faighte na daoin' uaisle
Far'm bu dual do Mhac 'ic Ailein


Tir a' mhurain, tir an eorna
Tir 's am pailt a h-uile seorsa
Far am bi na gillean óga
Gabhail òran's g`ól an lionna

Thig iad ugainn, carach seólta
Gus ar mealladh far ar n-eólais;
Molaidh iad dhuinn Manitoba,
Dúthaich fhuar gun ghual, gun mhóine.

Cha leig mi leas 'a bith 'ga innse,
Nuair ruigear, 'sann a chithear,
Samhradh goirid foghar sitheil,
Geamhradh fada na droch-shide.

Nam biodh agam fhin de storas
Da dheis aodaich, paidhir bhrogan
Agus m'fharadh bhith 'nam phóca'
Sann air Uibhist dheanainn seóladh.

Oh my country, you are on my mind
Fresh fragrant Uist of the saplings
Where the noble men are found
Who gave their hereditary allegiance
to Mac ic Ailein.

Land of seabed, land of barley
Land of abundance of every kind
Where the young lads will be
Singing songs and drinking beer

They will come to us cunning and wily
In order to entice us from our homes
They will praise Manitoba to us
A cold country with no coal and no peat

I don't need to say that when we reach it
we'll see it
A short summer and a peaceful autumn
A long winter of bad weather

If I had riches
A change of clothes and a pair of shoes
And my prayer in my pocket
It is to Uist I would be sailing