Northwords Now Issue 35

The FREE literary magazine of the North

Uncail Dòmhnall

by Aonghas Pàdraig Caimbeul

Bhiodh e seinn na chadal:
‘An t-urram thar gach beinn aig Beinn Dòbhrain’,
’s nuair ghabhadh e smùid mhùineadh e a bhriogais
gus an èireadh ceò mar sgòth air Beinn a’ Cheathaich.

Nuair phòs Maighread am balach à Lunnainn
thug iad cead dha tighinn chun na bainnse
fhad ’s a chumadh e sòbaire, sàmhach, agus glan.

Agus air latha a’ phòsaidh,
na sheann dheise clòimh’ agus na lèine gheal
ghabh e tè mhòr

is leum na cnuic is dhanns na creagan
is dhòirt na h-aibhnichean nan tuil le bròn.


Uncle Donald

He’d sing in his sleep:
‘An t-urram thar gach beinn aig Beinn Dòrain’
and when drunk he’d piss his trousers
till steam rose like a cloud on Beinn a’ Cheathaich.

When Mairead married the boy from London
he was allowed to come to the wedding
on condition he remained sober, quiet, and clean.

And on the day of the marriage
in his old woollen suit and white shirt
he went on the spree

and the hills skipped and the rocks danced
and the rivers flowed in floods of grief.