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’S ann mu’n Ruadh Aisridh dh’fhàs na cuairteagan,
     Cluthmhor cuaicheanach cuannar àrd;
A h-uile cluaineag ’s am bàrr air luasgadh,
     S a’ ghaoth gan sguabadh a-nunn ’s a-nall;
Bun na cìoba is bàrr a’ mhìltich,
     A’ chuiseag dhìreach ’s an fhìteag cham;
Muran brìoghmhor ’s an grunnasg lìonmhor,
     Mu’n chuilidh dhìomhair am bì na suinn.

It’s round Ruadh Aisridh that the tussocks grew,
Sheltered, curled, handsome, tall;
Every green patch with its crop of herbs waving,
As the wind sweeps them to and fro;
The root of deer’s hair grass and the tip of arrow-grass,
The straight ragwort and the curved foxtail-grass,
The sappy bent grass and the copious groundsel,
Around the secret hollow where the heroic stags dwell.

 ‘Òran Coire a’ Cheathaich’ (‘The Song of the Misty Corrie’)

Donnchadh Bàn MacIntyre. 1724 –1812.