Canan nan Gaidheal

If you're after a singable translation you'll have to make your own, I think - I've never come across an English version. But here are the full words in Gaelic and an English (not verse) translation.
 
1 Cha b' e sneachda 's an reòthadh 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
  Blàth, duilleach, stoc, agus freumh
  Canan mo threubh 's mo shluaidh.
 
Séist: Thig thugainn, thig co-rium gu siar
       Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nam Féinn,
       Thig thugainn, thig co-rium gu siar
       Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Gaidheal.
 
2 Far a nuas dhuinn na coinnleirean òir
  'S annt' caraibh coinlean geal ceir
  Lasaibh suas iad an seòmair bhroin
  Tìgh-'aire seann chanan a' Ghae'l
  'S sud o chionn fhad' thuirt a namh
  Ach fhathast tha beò canan a' Ghae'l.
 
3 'S iomadh gille thug greis air a' chuibhl'
  'S an du-oidhch' thog fonn Gàidhlig a chridh
  'S iomadh gaisgeach a bhrosnaich 'sa bhlair
  Gu euchd nuair bu teòtha bha 'n strì
  O Ghaidheil, o caite 'n deach t' uaill
  'Nad fhine 's 'nad chanan 's do thir.?
 
4 Uair chite fear-feilidh 'sa ghleann
  Bu chinnteach gur gàidhlig a chainnt
  Ach spion iad a fhreumh as an fhonn
  'N aite gàidhlig tha canan a Ghoill
  'S a Ghaidhealtachd creadhal-nan-sonn
  'S tir mhajors is cholonels 'n diugh th' innt'.
 
5 O chanan ta leath ri mo chridh
  M' aran m' amhlan is m' anal 's mo smior
  'S tu cho aosd ri fraoch-dosradh nam frith
  Shloinneadh og leat beinn, leitear is sgur
  Ghaidheil, 'gad easbhuidh, 's 'gad dhith
  'S clarsach aon-theud, is cuislean gun fhuil.
 
6 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-Uachdar nam bo
  Gigheal, dhi na Eileanan Siar
  Bi na claimheamh 's na sgiath'n ud dhoirn.
 
7 Ged nach chluinntear nis mo i 'san dun
  No 'n talla-nan-cliar is nan còirn
  Ged tha meòir chloinn'icCreumein gun luths
  O 'n tric feasgair ciuin dhoirteadh ceòl
  Gigheadh, anns na Eileanan-siar
  'S i fhathast ann ciad chainnt an t-sloigh.
 
8 Tha na suinn le 'm bu bhinne bha t' fhuaim
  'Nad linn thir nam fuarbeannaibh ard
  Aig an druim anns na uaidhean nan suain
  Suas air eirigh mo thruaigh tha nan àit
  Eadhon siar ann an duthaich-MhicLeoid
  Linn og oirt a ghàidhlig rinn tair.
 
1 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.
 
2 Pass over to us the golden candlesticks
  and put in them the white waxen candles
  light them up in rhe 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.
 
3 Many a lad who has spent a while at the wheel
  in the darkness of night has had his heart lifted by a Gaelic song;
  and many a hero has spurred on on the battle field
  to valour where the fight was hottest;
  O Gael, where has your pride in your race and your
  language and your country gone?
 
4 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.
 
5 O language that's close to my heart,
  My food, my spice, my breath, and my strength,
  you are as old as the abundant heather on the hills
  The hills, slopes, and peaks were named by you when they were young
  Gael, you're needing and you're wanting,
  like a stringless harp or a vein without blood.
 
6 Although it has escaped with its life fom the valley,
  although it's rare today that it's head any more
  from Strathnaver [MacKay's country] in the far north
  right down to Drumouchter where the cattle are
  nevertheless, for it in the Western Isles
  the swords and shields are taken in hand there.
 
7 Although it is heard no more in the city
  or in the festive hall of the laureates,
  Although the strength has gone from the MacCrimmons' fingers
  from which often music would be poured out in the evening
  Nevertheless, in the western Isles,
  there it is still the first language of the people.
 
8 The heroes to whom your sound was sweetest
  in your time in the land of the cool high bens
  are on their backs at rest in graves
  and risen up, Oh woe, in their place, is
  even in McLeod's country
  a young generation who despise you, gaelic.

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