> Folk Music > Songs > Ar Fa La La Lo

Ar Fa La La Lo

[ RoudFS S227619 ; DT FALALOW ; Mudcat 39840 ; trad.]

Hugh S. Roberton printed Air Falalalo in his 1950 songbook Songs of the Isles (p.32). It is credited to words by Hugh S. Roberton, traditional Gaelic tune arranged by Hugh S. Roberton.

Gordon McIntyre sang Er Fa La La Lo in 1966 on the Australian album A Wench, a Whale and a Pint of Good Ale. The album’s liner notes called it “a traditional Irish song with the message of a protest song written yesterday” but with the Highlands and Lowlands references in the song I’d rather think it is Scottish.

Philadelphia group Broadside Electric sang Air Fàil A Lail Ò (Ar Fa La La Lo) on their 1994 album Amplificata. They noted:

A racy love song in Irish Gaelic.

Gwilym Davies collected Ar Fa La La A Lo from Gordon Hall on 3 February 1996.

Lyrics

Gordon McIntyre sings Er Fa La La Lo

There’s a lilt in the song I sing, there’s laughter and love,
There’s a tang from the sea and blue from heaven above.
Of reason there’s none and why should there be forby?
But the fire in the blood and toes and the light in the eye.

Chorus (after each verse):
Er fa la la lo horo er fa la la lay.
Er fa la la lo horo er fa la la lay.
Er fa la la lo horo er fa la la lay.
Fa li fa lo horo er fa la la lay.

The heather’s ablaze wi’ bloom, the myrtle is sweets,.
There’s a song in the air, the road’s a song at our feet.
So step it along as light as the bird on the wing
And stepping along let’s join our voices and sing.

And whether the blood be Highland, Lowland or no,
And whether the skin be black or white as the snow.
Of kith and of kin we are one be it right be it wrong
As long as our hearts beat true to the lilt of the song.

Broadside Electric sing Air Fàil A Lail Ò (Ar Fa La La Lo)

Air fàil a lail ò, horò, air fàil a lail é
Air fàil a lail ò, horò, air fàil a lail é
Air fàil a lail ò, horò, air fàil a lail é
Fail i, fail ò, horò, air fail a lail é

A’ bhuachaille bhàin mas aill leat labhairt air thùs
Gur a leat-sa gun dàil mo làmh ma thig thu le mùirn
Gur truagh mar a tha nach do thàrladh mise agus tu
Ann an eilean gun tràigh, gun ràmh gun choite, gun stiùir

Ma théid thu air sàil, a ghriadh bi gini ’ad’ phòc’
Is òl mo dheoch-slàint’gach àit an suidh thu mun bhòrd
L d’chride geal, aotrom, éibhneach, aighearrach òg
Gur toigh leam am beul o’m bìnn a thigeadh an ceòl

Gur toigh leam an deud ’s am beul nach labhradh le sgràing
Bhi sinnte ri m’ thaobh, a ghaoil nan tigeadh tu ann
Mur bhiodh luchd nam breug bha m’eudail is mise gun taing
Le òrdugh na cléir le chéile ’n ceangal gu lann

Nach robh mis’ is thu am beinn no monadh no sliabh
No air an traigh bhàn an àite nach robh duine riamh
Seachd oidhche, seachd là, gun tàmh gun chadal gun bhiadh
Ach thus’ a bhi ’ghràidh ’s do làmh gheal tharam gu fial.

Translation

O fair-haired cow-herd, if it is your desire to be first to speak:
My hand is yours if you come to me with joy.
It is sad that being together is not our destiny,
On an isle with no shore, without boat or rudder or oar.

If you go to sea, my dear, there will be a guinea in your pocket,
And drink to my health each place that you sit at the table.
With your pure, glad and joyful heart,
I desire the mouth from which comes forth the music.

I so like the mouth, the tooth that would not with rancor speak,
Lying beside me, my darling, if only you’d come:
Were not the gossipers there my dear I’d give thanks,
With order of clergy our binding together forever.

Would that you and I, on mountain, on moor or on heath,
Or on the white beach in a place where no one e’er was
Seven nights, seven days, without respite, without sleep without food
But just you and I my dear, and your arm’s protection around me.