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Iii. Labour. Oibre. 109. The Chant

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"Carmina Gadelica, Volume 1", by Alexander Carmicheal, [1900],

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p. 295

Duan Deilbh [109]

The Chant Of The Warping

During
the winter months the women of Highland households are up late and early at 'calanas'--this comprehensive term embracing the whole process of wool-working from the raw material to the finished cloth. The process is an important factor in the internal economy of a Highland family. The industry of these women is wonderful, performed lovingly, uncomplainingly, day after day, year after year, till the sands of life run down. The life in a Highland home of the crofter class is well described in the following lines:--

'Air oidhche fhada gheamhraidh

Theid teanndadh ri gniamh,

A toir eolas do chloinn

Bith an seann duine liath,

An nighean a cardadh,

A mhathair a sniamh,

An t-iasgair le a shnathaid

A caramh a lian.'

In the long winter night

All are engaged,

Teaching the young

Is the grey-haired sage,

The daughter at her carding,

The mother at her wheel,

While the fisher mends his net

With his needle and his reel.

'Calanas' is an interesting process. The wool is carefully sorted and the coarser parts put aside. It is then washed and laid out to dry, and again examined and teased, and all lumps and refuse taken out.

If the wool is meant to be made into very fine cloth, it is drawn on combs of specially long teeth; if into ordinary cloth, it is carded on the cards without going through the combs. After carding, the wool is made into 'rolagan,' rowans, and spun into thread, which is arranged into hanks. At this stage the thread is generally dyed, although occasionally the wool is dyed after the teasing process and before being carded. The work of dyeing requires much care and knowledge and practical skill. It is done with native plants gathered with patient care from the rocks and hills, moors and fields and lakes, and with certain earths. When it is considered that a thorough knowledge of p. 295 plants is necessary, their locality, their colouring properties, whether of root, stem, or leaf, and the stage of growth or decay, it will be understood that those who use them need much intelligence All Highland women are practical dyers, some more skilful than others. From infancy they are trained in 'calanas,' and in plants and dyeing; the whole clothing, including the blankets, of the household being dependent upon their skill and industry. Are there any other women in any class who can show such widespread skill and intelligence as these Highland women show in wool-working and dyeing operations? Home-made tartans and other fabrics, made many generations, sometimes centuries, ago, are not only wonderfully fine in texture, but all the different colours are remarkably bright and beautiful.

The Celts must have had an eye for colour in very early times. The Book of Kells is said by experts to be the most beautiful illuminated manuscript in the world. It is believed to have been written in the Columban monastery of Iona, and to have escaped the Norse destruction of mss. and been carried to the Columban monastery of Kells. Not only are the forms of the initial letters in the mss. marvellously intricate and artistic, but the different pigments used in colouring are still bright and beautiful and fresh, while the colouring of copies made during this century is already sickly and faded.

The pattern of the tartan or other cloth to be woven is first designed on a small piece of wood, the thread being placed on the wood according to the design proposed. This is called 'suidheachadh,' setting. It is a work that requires patient care and skill in order to bring out the pattern correctly. The Chant of the Warping is feelingly intoned by the women in warping the web. When a word or a phrase has struck their minds, they stop singing in order to emphasise the sentiment in a word or a phrase of their own, beseeching Mary's beloved Son to give them strength to observe His laws. These pious interjections and momentary stoppages may not add to the beauty of the singing, but they do to the picturesqueness.

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Daorn
nam buadh.

Gu deilbh 's gu luadh,

Bidh ceud gu leth dual

Ri aireamh.

Snath gorm gu math caol,

Dha gheala ri a thaobh,

Agus sgarlaid ri taobh

A mhadair.

Thursday
of beneficence,

For warping and waulking,

An hundred and fifty strands there shall be

To number.

Blue thread, very fine,

Two of white by its side,

And scarlet by the side

Of the madder.

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Bidh mo dheilbh gu math reidh,

Thoir do beannachd dhomh, Dhe,

Is do gach uile fo m' chleith

'S an fhardaich.

A Mhicheil, aingil nam buadh,

A Mhoire mhin-ghil tha shuas,

A Chriosd, a Bhuachaill an t-sluagh,

Dean bhur beannachd bi-bhuan

A bhairig.

Do gach neach laigheas sios,

An ainm Athar is Chriosd,

Agus Spiorad na siochaint

Ghrasmhor.

Crath a nuas oirnn mar dhriuchd,

Gliocas caon na ban chiuin,

Nach do dhibir riamh iul

An Ard Righ.

Cum air falbh gach droch shuil,

Gach uile mhuinntir droch ruin,

Coisrig cur agus dluth

Gach snathla.

Cur do ghairdean mu 'n cuairt,

Air gach te bhios ga luadh,

Agus dean a tearmad aig uair

A saruich.

Thoir domh subhailcean mor,

Mar bh
' aig Muire ri a lo,

Chum 's gun sealbhaich mi gloir

An Ard Righ

My warp shall he very even,

Give to me Thy blessing, O God,

And to all who are beneath my roof

In the dwelling.

Michael, thou angel of power,

Mary fair, who art above,

Christ, Thou Shepherd of the people,

Do ye your eternal blessing

Bestow

On each one who shall lie down,

In name of the Father and of Christ,

And of the Spirit of peacefulness,

And of grace.

Sprinkle down on us like dew

The gracious wisdom of the mild woman.

Who neglected never the guidance

Of the High King.

Ward away every evil eye,

And all people of evil wishes,

Consecrate the woof and the warp

Of every thread.

Place Thou Thine arm around

Each woman who shall be waulking it,

And do Thou aid her in the hour

Of her need.

Give to me virtues abundant,

As Mary had in her day,

That I may possess the glory

Of the High King

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Bho 'n 's tus a Dhe tha toir fas,

Do gach gne agus gnaths,

Thoir dhuinn olainn thar bharr

An fheuir ghlais.

Coisrig sealbh arms gach ait,

Le 'n uain bheaga bhinne bhath,

Is cuir an lionmhoireachd al

Ar treudais.

Chum 's gu 'm faigh sinn diubh cloimh,

Bainne sultmhor r
' a ol,

Is nach hi gainn oirnn a chomhdach

Eirigh.

Since Thou, O God, it is who givest growth,

To each species and kind,

Give us wool from the surface

Of the green grass.

Consecrate the flock in every place,

With their little lambs melodious, innocent,

And increase the generations

Of our herds.

So that we may obtain from them wool,

And nourishing milk to drink,

And that no dearth may be ours

Of day clothing.

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