From the Songbook Flower of the west
Diardaoin, an ceathramh latha dhan 'Ghiblein.
Deagh latha eile. Air mo chois trath.
Leig mi fhèin is m'athair a-mach an crodh.
Tha Alasdair a' treabhandh thall taobh an iar.
Dh'fhalbh sinn sios a dh'Orasaigh,
fodraigeadh nam beathaichean agus thàinig sinn air ais timcheall Cleit,
a' cumail suil a-mach airson na h-uain.
Tha e math a bhi beò, tha e math a bhi beò.
Air an òidhche bha sluagh mòr a-staigh agus bha againn ri dhol suas gu taigh
Neill airson tuilleadh sheidhrichean.
Tha an teaghlach uile dhachaidh a-neisd.
A' suidhe air an staidhre a' coimhead air an uinneag.
A' gheallach, An Crogaire, Loch an Aonghais.
Fhad's a bha Ruairidh Sheumais a' gabhail na leabhraichean.
Tha gnothaichean caran mun aon rud.
Translation:
Wednesday, April 4th. Another good day. I was up early.
Dad and I let out the cows. Alastair is away ploughing on the west side.
We went down to Orinsay to feed the cattle, an we came back by Cleit,
keeping an eye out for the lambs. It's good to be alive. It's good to be alive.
At evening time there was a big crwd of people in the house
and we had to go up to Neil's house for more chairs.
The family is all home now. Sitting on the stairs looking towards the window.
The moon. The Crogaire. Loch an Aongais.
While Ruiaridh Sheumais was taking the worship.
Things are much the same way as they were.
Cheers Yvette
