Dear friends, it is my special pleasure to introduce you a little bit in the old gaelic language, once spoken in whole Scotland and now a dying language, if no miracle happens. Only 1% of the scottish population speaks this very old celtic language, less then 60 000 native speakers. In the moment they have a coming back with scots - gaelic sungen music. Spoken as a language it is totally strange; sung by a beautiful lady it is sheer pleasure. And here is one example: CANAN NAN GAIDHEAL - The language of the Gaels Cha b' e sneachda 's an reothadh bho thuath, Cha b' e 'n crannadh fuar bho 'n ear, Cha b 'e 'n uisge 's an gailleon bho 'n iar, Ach an galair a bhlean bho 'n deas Blath, duilleach, stoc, agus freumh Canan mo threubh 's mo shluaidh. Chorus: Thig thugainn, thig co-rium gu siar Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan na Feinn, Thig thugainn, thig co-rium gu siar Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Gaidheal. Uair chite fear-feilidh 'sa ghleann Bu chinnteach gur gaidhlig a chainnt Ach spion iad a fhreumh as an fhonn 'N aite gaidhlig tha canan a Ghoill 'S a Ghaidhealtachd creadhal-nan-sonn 'S tir mhajors is cholonels 'n diugh th' innt'. Chorus: (-) Thoir a-nuas dhuinn na coinnleirean dir 'S annt' caraibh coinlean geal ceir Lasaibh suas iad an seomar bhroin Taigh-'aire seann chanan a' Ghae'l 'S sud o chionn fhad' thuirt a namh Ach fhathast tha beo Canan na' Ghaidheal. Chorus: (-) Ged theich i le beath' as na glinn Ged 's gann an diugh chluinntear i nis mo O Dhuthaich MhicAoidh fada tuath Gu ruig thu Druim-Uachdair nam bo Gigheal, dhi na Eileanan Siar 'S i fhathast ann ciad chainnt an t-sloigh. Chorus: (-) THE LANGUAGE OF THE GAELS - Canan nan gaidheal It was not the snow and frost from the north, nor the cold withering from the east, it wasn't the rain or the storms from the west, but the sickness from the south that has faded the bloom, foliage, stock and root of the language of my race and my people Chorus: Come, come on, come with me westwards until we hear the language of the Fein, Come, come on, come with me westwards until we hear the language of the Gaels Once if a kilted man was seen in the valley it was certain that Gaelic was his language, but they have torn his roots from the ground, in the place of Gaelic is the foreigner's language, and the Gaeltachd, cradle of heroes, today it is a land of majors and colonels. Chorus: (-) Pass over to us the golden candlesticks and put in them the white waxen candles light them up in the mourning room of the wake-house of the Gael's old language That's what the enemy has long been saying but the language of the Gael is alive yet. Chorus: (-) Although it has escaped with its life from the glens, although it's rare today that it's heard any more in the capital; from Strathnaver [MacKay's country] in the far north right down to Drumouchter where the cattle is countless, nevertheless, in the Western Isles, There it is still the mother- language of the people.. Chorus: (-) Lyrics: Murdo McFarlane, bard of Lewis, ca. 1880 You can hear and see this song here: