The Gaelic Poetry Nook will present poetry both in English and Gaelic.

Oidhche Chullaig	Hogmanay Night
A-nochd chuimhnich mi air Oidhchd Chullaig: an t-àgh an toileachas, an deasalachadh.	To night I remember Hogmanay Night: the ancticipation, the joy, the preparation.
Tha mise nochd a' tighinn gur n-ionnsaigh A dh'ùrachadh dhuibh na Cullaig Cha ruig mi leas a bhith ga innse, Bha I ann ri linn mo sheanar.	I am coming tonight to you To renew for you Hogmanay; I have no need to tell you of it, It existed in the time of my grandfather.
'S a' chais ga cur mun cuairt, 's na faclan a' bruthadh a-mach: silidh, ìm, càise ("Mac Eòghainn Mhóir"), briosgaidean, is "stork" le gàire, 's suas, suas-suas gu Taigh Nìll ' Illeasbaig s'na balaich aig taigh le òran is botal mór, fear le tastan, fear le leth-chrùn, fear leis a' "Chaiòra".	And the skin-strip put round, and the words pouring forth: jam, butter, cheese ("Big Ewen's son"!), biscuits, and "stork" with a snigger, and up, up to Neil MacPhee's house and the boys ashore with a song and big bottle, one with a shilling, one with a half-crown, one singing the "Caiòra".
'S a' chais ga cur mun cuairt, 's na faclan a' bruthadh a-mach: silidh, ìm, càise ("Mac Eòghainn Mhóir"), briosgaidean, is "stork" le gàire, 's suas, suas-suas gu Taigh Nìll ' Illeasbaig s'na balaich aig taigh le òran is botal mór, fear le tastan, fear le leth-chrùn, fear leis a' "Chaiòra".	And the skin-strip put round, and the words pouring forth: jam, butter, cheese ("Big Ewen's son"!), biscuits, and "stork" with a snigger, and up, up to Neil MacPhee's house and the boys ashore with a song and big bottle, one with a shilling, one with a half-crown, one singing the "Caiòra".
Mo chaisean Cullaig ann am' phòcaid, S math en ceò thig às an fhear ud: Thèid e deiseil air na pàistean, Gu h-àraid air bean an taighe.	My Hogmany skin-strip in my pocket, And good is the smoke that comes from it: It will go sunwise round the children, And especially round the housewife.
"S sìos, sìos seachad air an dìg, s sìos, sìos seachad air an dìg (far am b fheudar dhombh mùn),	And down, down past the ditch, And down, down, past the ditch (where I had to have a pee),
"mo chaisean Cullaig ann am' phòcaid, s math a ceò thig ás an fhear ud.	my Hogmanay skin-strip in my pocket, And good is the smoke that comes from it.
"S cho doirbh 's a bha na faclan deireannach s' tu cho beag (cò aig' a Dhia bha fios orra?).	And how difficult the last lines where to remember And you so wee (did anyone know them, O God?).
Chì thu nis iad ann an leabhar brèagha (The Folksongs and Folklore of South Uist), 's mise cho diùid le na briathran móra:	You can now see them in the beautiful book (The Folksongs and Folklore of South Uist), and I so shy with the big words:
Bean an taighe si as fhiach e, Làmh a riarachadh na Cullaig; Rud beag de shochair an t-samhraidh A' cumail geall air aig an aran.	'Tis the housewife who deserves it, Here is the hand for the 'Hogmanay'; A small thing of the good things of summer To keep a promise got with the bread,
Fosgail an doras is leig a-staigh mi!	Open the door and let me in!
Fosgail an doras is leig a-staigh mi!	Open the door and let me in!
Fosgail an doras is leig a-staigh mi!	Open the door and let me in!
Aonghas Padraig Caimbeul	Angus Peter Campbell>BR>

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