Mother Alba

Mother Alba
Crashing chilled tumults define your form
Mists crown your high places.
Lochans adorn your sylvan neck
Strung together by the bracing gale
That breaks on your coat of birch, hazel and pine.

Mother Alba
Your children unite with the soaring birds
And creatures among the shading oaks
Or vigilant stag on the high ridge.
We joyously share in your bounty,
Our spirits sing on beholding you.

Mother Alba
You have shaped us in your image
You have made of us adventurers
Forged upon your high seas and mountains
To survive where others flounder
And to honour you from afar

Mother Alba
Our wanderings bring us back to you
Like the greylag and salmon
In the name of progress some would exploit you
But you lay low their mightiest works with gentle flowers
We who cherish you are your children

Mother Alba
You are wild and beautiful
And none can possess you
But our hearts are yours
Your spirit gives us life
Land of the soul, Mother Alba

Tam.

WHEN I WAKEN IN THE MORNING, I ALWAYS SIT AND DWELL

IS THERE A HEAVEN, IS THERE A HELL

WILL THERE BE WARS IN THE FUTURE, LIKE THERE ARE NOW

IF SO BROTHERS AND SISTERS, HOW LONG ARE WE GOING TO ALLOW

WHO GAVE HIM THE ORDER, WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT

BET HE'S NOT IN THE FRONT LINE HAVING TO FIGHT

BANG GOES A MISSILE A MILLION POUNDS UP IN SMOKE

WE JUST KILLED A GENERAL AND TWO THOUSAND INNOCENT FOLK

FLIES ON BABIES FACE NOW, TOO HUNGRY TO SMILE

MOTHERS HEARTBROKEN BABY WILL DIE IN A WHILE

DADDY PAYS HIS SCHOOL FEES BORN TO LOOK DOWN HIS NOSE

JUMP IN HIS SPORTS CAR, OFF TO WORK HE GOES

POWER IS POWER IS MONEY, MONEY IS GREED

IT’S ALL AROUND US, HOW MUCH DO WE NEED?

THERE MUST BE A HEAVEN, THERE MUST BE A HELL

BUT WE'VE TOO MANY SECRETS, AND NO ONE TO TELL.


DREW AND WILLS 2000

Short script written by Seumas for "Sparr" performance

Since the dawn of time our ancestors have been navigating the waters of Alba

From the dug-out canoe, to the Currach, to the Hebridean Galley - the Birlinn
Greyhound of the Sea

Sailing the Orkney Isles to the Isle of Man, the Butt of Lewis to the Mull of Galloway

Native Clans with Somhairle Mac Gille Bride - Tighearnan nan Eilean

Up river to Govan, the town of the Smith, Am Baile Gobhainn,

Across to iona, Heisker, St Kilda and beyond

Defying Roman invasion

Repelling Viking attack

Resisting Southern aggression

Proud Gaels, defending our shores, riding the storm, and bringing home their catch.



Seumas.

We are the Galgael

We are the GalGael
We make swords from soup
So we can stab and slash
The loneliness of hunger
Oor beautifully decorated targe
Is massif and strong
It protects us from divisive dogma doctrine

Sacred sporrans hingin’ fae belts
Pour sumptuous nutrients
Intae the mooths of the anger avoiders
O the tartan is dazzling
Ancient modern threads are connected
Colours of infinity
Hues of warmth and nurture

Long sharp shiltram spears
Defend us from the selfish and harmfull
We watch wan anithers backs
Hame made stiff woolly bonnets
Give eyes shade
To the dazzling glare of consumerism
Also keepin’ the heid warm
In contemplative concentration

Tackity boot wellie coorans
Assemble gracefully in battle formation
Remembering relatives poetic murmurs
Breengin’ forward with pride conviction
Nae need tae chib

Legs that hing doon fae kilts
Will run tae all corners of oor earth
To celebrate
The precious honesty of native
Rich traditional battle tunes belt oot
As we position to dance
Ancient Elvis, modern pictish and gallus Gaelic
Drive us onward

Oor hearts beat tae the pulse
Of the bees wing….the way
Oor veins gush with the rivers and burns of Scotland
The rocks are oor relatives
Their soft rhythmic roar
Constant
We move along the spiral
To honour the Sun
Each movement a gift
We are the Galgael
We are the Soup Makers

Alan T.

Chieftain for a coming age

Colin of the treetop
Lashed onto the swaying bough
His banner below him
Alone in his defiance
Calling us to gather, where the roots are.

MacLeod of the hearth fire
Offering heat and a warm cup
Words that burn, words that heal
Deeds that shake the foundation
Of what we knew before

Colin of the native woodland
Oak, robin, fox and tiny flower
Watching, learning, being
They are of our community
We are all of the infinite cycle

MacLeod the warrior
Soldier of truth
Hands raised against him
The knife pierced him
But did not deter him

Colin the carver
Lumps of dead wood
Become soaring eagles
The broken branch
Is a leaping salmon

MacLeod the alchemist
Gobhnus crucible he stirs
Where others see base metal
He sees shining gold
Of the human heart

Colin the rope-worker
Bringing the loose strands together
Spirit, community and the precious earth
Pleated firmly in unity
By a strong gentle hand

MacLeod of the stone
Pounding the unyielding granite
Ancient symbols appear
Icons of the past
Signposts for the coming age

Colin the tiller man
Ploughing the oceans furrows
Planting seeds of hope
A crew blossoms
He is taken from us but still points the way home.

Tam.

Now for you.

Now for you there is no rain
For one is shelter to the other
Now for you, the sun shall not burn
For one is shelter to the other
Now for you, nothing is hard or bad
For goodness and badness is taken
By one for the other.

Now for you, there is no night
For one is light to the other
Now for you, the snow has ended always
For one is protection for the other
It is that way from now on, from now on
Now it is good and there is always food
And now there is always drink
And now there is comfort
Now there is no loneliness

Rosie McHarg

Oimelc (Imbolc) at Galgael
Soulsmith, we kindle your sacred fire
In the hearth of Goibhnu today
You all- embracing mantle of light
Shall bathe us in it’s ray

New life springs forth on Scotias land
The nurturing milk of ewe
The tears of winter falling now
To mingle with the dew

And the healing of your gentle heart
Shall touch us all today
The weary the lamb will beckon forth
To his wedding feast in May

Oh! Blessed midwife of the Gael
Your child exalted shall be
As the solstice fire will brightly burn
A beacon for all to see

And Lughnasahs funeral games
Let Tailtu honoured be
Rhiannons steed to pound the waves
Upon thy holy sea.

Then at Samhain’s Sacred Feast,
You’ll open the portals wide
We’ll join with the ancestors once again
To praise our holy Bride.

As Winter Solstice draws forth age,
Oh Mary of the Gael,
You’ll close your eyes in weariness,
Your face behind a veil.

Galgael will keep your sacred coals
And guard your holy broom,
At each Imbolc, we’ll light the flame
And sweep away the gloom.

And in Thy blessed Church of Oak,
The Holy Cross of Days,
Eternity Thy mantle spreads
In Ogmas Solar Rays.

And forged by Gobhniu’s precious hand
Base metal turned to gold
The ancient Cauldron you will stir
The seasons to unfold.

Chant (3x):
Imbolc:
Pron.: eemelk
“Oimelc” – the first milk (lactation) of the ewe
Thig! Thig! Brid, Brid
Failte, Failte, Fad na tide
Phonetics:
Heeck! Heeck! Breege, Breege,
Falchuh, falchuh, fad na teege
Meaning:
Come! Come! Bridget, Bridget.
Welcome! Wlecome! All the time.
Gu Galgael
Le
Beannchdan
Anna Nic Aonghous.

LIGHTS OUT



I said its alright I’ve been doing this for years,
But the guy didn’t know what to do,
When I turned chalk white and I hit the deck
And my lips turned a misty blue,
For all those times that I hit the pin,
Wiped out and drowned in sin,
It’s my time to have a try,
To figure out if I live or die

Cause the lights are out but I’m still home,
The front doors open but I’m not going,
It’s do or die it’s fight or flight,
So tell me why does this feel so right?
For tonight I think I tasted heaven,
And I want another bite

Told myself my life was tragic thought,
I’d already reached my peak and that the years,
Ahead were meaningless which all looked grey and bleak,
Like a pill popped at a party,
Which came on to quick,
I was full of love at the start of it,
But then I just felt sick

The light’s still out but I’m still home,
But the front doors closing and I think I’m going,
Then an angel wearing yellow said come on dear,
And at that point it became so clear,
For tonight I’d tasted something,
But that something was fear.

Anonymous GalGaelian