Her fainness for the sangs, the fowk at sung thaim an the warld thay bade in, leams furth frae her inleitin. But houbeid she hes screivit sae tentilie the words an the lilts o aa the sangs, whit kythes frae her expleitins is at a Gaelic sang prentit on paper is nae mair the sang itsel nor a pictur o a lannskip is the trees wi the wunn reeshlin throu thaim, an the burns lapperin ower the stanes. 

Gaelic, for aa it wes the foremaist leid in Europe efter Greek an Laitin tae pit its letter-huird in screivins, hes aye been a cultuir o sang an speil: its ballants an its bardrie cam frae the hert tae the tung, an thrau the lugs tae the herts o ithers. The sang-cultuir o the Gaeltacht wes grunnit on the leid as fowk spak it (we read hou the lilt an stap o a sang maun be as close as ye can win tae the lilt o speech); an the souch o a sang in the mou o ony sangster wad be aa his ain, diffeirin frae ony ither. (An we read forbye hou no langsyne in the Mod, nae less, the jeedges wes that kenless, thay expeckit the sangsters tae gie furth thair sangs as gin thay war componins o Mozart or Schubert!)

The tae affcome o thon is at thare nae mair siccar gait tae a kennin o the Gaelic warld nor throu its sangs: the tither, that readin the screivit words is nae mair nor the first peerie stap. Thare mony o's wull pit this buik on the piana an play thrau the sangs, liltin thaim forbye, gin we hae a haet 0 Gaelic; but gin we seek mair nor a bonnie divert, we maun yoke tae wi the haill ingyne, the haill imaginin an the haill hert.

J. Derrick McClure

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