Moladh na Gàidhlig Fhuair mi m’àrach an Earra Ghàidheal Nach dean sibh èisdeachd gu sèimh rim sgeula ‘ Se cainnt mo mhàthair, nuair bha i làthair Thug dhomhsa Ghàidhlig an àite Beurla Bha uair bha Ghàidhlig gu fallain làidir ‘S dh’aindheòin spàirne tha i ri gèilleadh ‘S e dream nach tàinig a thig nar n-àite Bidh iad gun àireamh gun chànain cèile Gun rinn mi leughadh na briathran gleusda A sgrìobh MacPharlain is Mac na Clèire Mu chor na Gàidhlig, tha diugh ri fàillig ‘S gur e bheir bàs dhith cus dheth ‘n Bheurla Their cuid le gàire gur h-i bh’ aig Adhamh Nuair bha e sa ghàrradh-sa còmh’ ri Eubha O abair tàmailt don h-uile Gàidheal Nam biodh fìrinn san t-seana sgeula O nach àghmhòr a bhith gun Ghàidhlig Am measg ar càirdean a tha cho bàigheil Nach dèanamh tàire no eadhon gàire Air Goill tha feuchainn ri cainnt nan Gàidheal ‘S e thigeadh dhomhsa a nis bhith sàmhach Is crìoch neo-stràiceil chur air mo bhàrdachd Ach ‘s e mo mhiann-sa, gun tig a’ bhliadhna A chluinnear Gàidhlig sa h-uile fàrdach Le Calum Mac Dhiarmaid, Muile

In praise of Gaelic I was brought up in Argyll Won’t you listen quietly to my story It was the speech of my mother, when she was here That gave me Gaelic instead of English When Gaelic was healthy and strong And despite everything it has gone through It is a different crowd that will come in our place They will be numberless without a mother tongue I have read the wise words Written by MacFarlane and Mac na Cleire About the state of Gaelic, which today is failing And what will kill it is too much English Some say, with a laugh, that Adam had Gaelic When he was in the garden with Eve O what disgrace to every Gael If there is truth in the old story O how glorious to be without Gaelic Among our friends who are so kindly Who will not mock or even laugh At Lowlanders trying to learn Gaelic I will now have to be quiet And bring a humble end to my poetry But it is my desire that the year will come When Gaelic will be heard at every fireside By Calum MacDiarmid, Mull