Là is Mi a' Sràideas ann an Grianaig	One Day While s Sauntering through Greenock
̉ran le Ḍmhnall MacMhuirich a Baile Mh́cheil, Eilean Arainn, nuair a chaidh a ghlacadh ann an Grianaig le cuideachd luingeas cogaidh aig àm Cogadh na Frainge. Bhon leabhar "The Book of Arran", W MacCoinnich 1914, rola 2, dd 319-21.	A song by Donald Currie from Ballymichael in the Isle of Arran, when he was caught in Greenock by a naval press-gang at the time of the Napoleonic Wars. From "The Book of Arran", W MacKenzie 1914, vol 2, pp 319-21.
Là 's mi 'sràideas ann an Grianaig 'S gun mo smaointean air na biastan 'Sann a thàinig iad mar mhialchoin Is spiol iad mi gun tṛcair	One day while sauntering through Greenock With no thoughts of the "beasts" How they came like hunting dogs And ensnared me mercilessly
Ha u rillean agus ho! Ha u rillean agus ho! I rillean agus hog i o Mo chridhe trom 's mi bṛnach	Ha u rillean agus ho! Ha u rillean agus ho! I rillean agus hog i o! My heart is heavy and I am sad
Thàinig fear dhiubh air gach taobh dhiom 'S iad le'n lannan biorach geur lẹ Is thàin' an treas fear as mo dhèidh 'S feitheamh ri mo lẹnadh	One of them came on each side of me Carrying their sharp pointy blades And the third one came after me Intending to wound me
'S on a chunnaic Bennie 'chuideachd Gam shlaodadh lẹ air mhuineal 'Sann a ghlaodh e: "S math na curaidhean, Cuireamaid air ḅrd e"	Since Bennie saw the company Dragging me by the throat He shouted: "What good soldiers, Let's put him on board"
Chuir iad mi don ghẹla chaoil 'S dh'iomair iad mi gus an taobh Is nach robh fear dhiubh air mo thaobh 'S b'èiginn dhomh dol lẹcha	They sent me to the narrow boat And rowed me over to their side* Not a man of them was my ally And I had to go along with them
Nuair a ràinig sinn a gualann 'Sann a ghlaodh iad rium dol suas innt' Air m' fh́rinn-se gum b'e bu chruaidhe Na bhith buain na ṃine	When we reached her (the ship's) bow They yelled to me to go up into her On my word it was harder Than cutting the peats
Nuair a ràinig sinn air ḅrd Cha robh truas ac' do m' dhẹir Ach 'sann a mhionnaich iad mo shẹrs' Gun robh Dẹrsa gann dhiubh	When we came on board They had no pity for my tears They cursed my sort George's ranks were short-supplied
Thug iad śos mi don phress room 'S bha gach aon dhiubh fẹrachd ceist dhiom An do ghabh mi bunndaist no 'n do list mi No 'n e 'm press thug lẹ mi	They took me down to the press-room Each one was asking me questions Did I get a fee or did I enlist Or did the press gang take me with them
Ach dh'innis mise dhaibh an fh́rinn Air dol lẹ nach robh mo smaointean 'S ged a fhuair iad mi 'nan ́nean Nach robh ḿr de dhẹin orm	But I told the truth to them That my thoughts were not of going with them Although they had me in their claws I was not one bit willing
'S ged a fhuair mi deoch is biadh ann 'S nach robh tùrn agam ri dhèanadh B'annsa leam bhith gu mo shliasaid Ann an sliabh na ṃine	And although I got food and drink there And although I had no chores to do I would prefer to be up to my thighs In the peat moor
Thoir mo shoraidh bhuam gu Raghnall Agus innis mar a tha mi 'S nan do ghabh mi 'chomhairle tràth Nach robh mi 'n-dràst cho bṛnach	Take my greetings to Ronald And relate how I am And that had I taken his advice before That I would not be so sorry now

You can find more articles in the archive under Gaelic Column and information on the organization at C.L.I.