191. Eolas A Chrannachain

AN evil eye or an evil spirit is powerless across water, especially across a running stream or a tidal water.

'Sir Eoghan Dubh Lochiall'--Black Sir Ewen Cameron of Lochiel, was at feud with Mackintosh of Moy about lands in Lochaber. 'Gormshul mhor na Moighe'--great Gormul of Moy, the celebrated witch, wished to destroy Lochiel, the foe of her chief and of her race. But, though she nursed her wrath and pursued her course day and night, she could not accomplish her purpose, as running water lay between herself and the object of her hatred. Lochiel knew this, and, although brave to recklessness, he prudently kept out of the way of the witch-woman. But on one occasion when Lochiel was returning from a conference at Inverness, great Gormul saw him far away on the blue horizon; but, if far away was he, not long was she in reaching him:--

GORMSHUL-- 'Ceum ann, eudail Eoghain.'

LOCHIALL-- 'Ceum ann thu fhein, a chailleach, 'S ma 's a h-eudar an ceum a ghabhail, Ceum a bharrachd aig Eoghan.'

GORMUL-- 'Step on, beloved Ewen.'

LOCHIALL-- 'Step on thou thyself, carlin, And if it be necessary to take the step, A step beyond thee for Ewen.'

Sir Ewen Cameron was one of the bravest men in Albain, and one of the best walkers in Gaeldom. Many a brave Saxon man he met without quailing, and many a hero he laid low, but this froward woman was trying him severely, and he was anxious to be rid of her with the least delay of time and the least betrayal of fear. The witch-woman observed this; and the more desperately he pressed on space, the more she pressed on him, while she herself appeared to be only making 'cas ceum coilich feasgar fann foghair agus a sgroban lan'--the footstep of a cock on a gentle autumn eve when his crop is full.

GORMSHUL-- 'Ceum ann, eudail Eoghain, 'S a Righ Goileam 's a Righ Geigean! Is fhada fhein o'n latha sin!'

GORMUL-- 'Step on, thou beloved Ewen, And oh! King Goileam and King Geigean! Long indeed since that day!'

LOCHIALL-- 'Ceum ann thu fhein, a chailleach, 'S ma 's a h-eudar an ceum a ghabhail, Ceum a bharrachd aig Eoghan.'

LOCHIEL-- 'Step on thou thyself, carlin, And if the step must be taken, A step beyond thee for Ewen.'

Remembering that occult power could not operate across running water, Lochiel suddenly swerved aside to the first stream he saw and plunged into it. The witch, chagrined at the escape of the prey she had thought safe, immediately called after him:--

GORMSHUL-- 'Durachd mo chridhe dhut, A ghradh nam fear, a Lochiall.'

LOCHIALL-- 'Durachd do chridhe, chailleach, Dh'an chlaich ghlais ud thall.'

GORMUL-- 'The wish of mine heart to thee, Thou best-beloved of men, Lochiel.'

LOCHIEL-- 'The wish of thine heart, carlin, Be upon yonder grey stone.'

The pillared grey stone on the bank of the river to which Lochiel pointed with his sword rent from top to base! Gallant courtier though he was, Sir Ewen Cameron waited to show but scant courtesy to great Gormul of Moy.

The influence of an evil spirit commanded by an evil mind is believed to retard or wholly to prevent butter from coming upon the cream in the churn. This evil influence was used by one woman against another in order to spirit away the butter from her neighbour's churn to her own churn. This, however, could only be done if no stream ran between the two women. A fire for kindling carried across a stream, however small, loses its occult power and is ineffective in spiriting away milk, cream, butter, or other milk product.

The following story was told me in 1870 by Mor Macneill, cottar, Glen, Barra. Sometimes the substance is spirited out of the milk, nothing being left but the semblance. On one occasion a household in Skye were at the peat-moss making peats, none remaining at home but the housewife and a tailor who was making clothes for the father and the sons of the house.

The housewife was up in the 'ben' churning, and the tailor was down in the 'butt' sewing. He sat on the meal-girnel, cross-legged, after the manner of tailors. Presently a neighbour woman came in and asked for a kindling for her fire. She took the kindling and went her way. When she went out, the tailor leaped down, and taking a live cinder from the fire, placed it in the water-stoup below the dresser, and with a bound was back again cross-legged on the meal-girnel sewing away as before. In a little while the woman came back saying that she failed to kindle her fire, and asked for another kindling, which she took. The tailor leapt down again and took another live cinder out of the fire and put it in the water-stoup below the dresser, and, with a spring to the meal-girnel, resumed his work. The woman came a third time saying that she had failed to

kindle her fire, and for the third time she took a kindling and went her way. As soon as she had left, the tailor leapt down, and taking a live cinder from the fire, placed it in the water-stoup as he had done before, and then springing to the top of the meal-girnel sat cross-legged sewing as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Towards evening the housewife came down in sore distress, saying--'O Mary and Son, am I not the sorely shamed woman, churning away at that churn the live-long day till my spirit is broken and my arms are weary, and that I have utterly failed to bring butter on the churn after all! O Mary! Mary, fair

Mother of grace! what shall I do when the people come home? I shall never hear the end of this churning till the day of my death!' 'Place thine hand in the water-stoup below the dresser and see if thy butter be there,' said the tailor. And with that the woman placed her hand in the water-stoup as directed, and three successive times, and each time brought up a large lump of butter as fresh and fair and fragrant as the beauteous butter-cups in their prime. The clever tailor had counteracted the machinations of the greedy neighbour woman by placing the live cinders in the water-stoup.

'

THIG na saor, thig; Thig na daor, thig; Thig na caor, thig; Thig na maor, thig; Thig na faor, thig; Thig na baor, thig; Thig na gaor, thig; Thig na caoch, thig; Thig na caon, thig; Thig na caomh, thig; Thig na gaol, thig; Thig na claon, thig; Thig fear a churraig bhuidhe, Chuireas am muighe na ruith.

Thig na saora. Thig na daora, Thig na caora, Thig na maora, Thig na faora, Thig na baora, Thig na gaora, Thig na caocha,

COME will the free, come; Come will the bond, come; Come will the bells, come; Come will the maers, come; Come will the blade, come; Come will the sharp, come; Come will the hounds, come; Come will the wild, come; Come will the mild, come; Come will the kind, come; Come will the loving, come; Come will the squint, come; Come will he of the yellow cap, That will set the churn a-running.

The free will come, The bond will come, The bells will come, The maers will come, The blades will come, The sharp will come, The hounds will come, The wild will come,

Thig na caona, Thig na caomha, Thig na gaola, Thig na claona, Thig loma lan na cruinne, Chur a mhuighe na ruith; Thig Calum caomh na uidheam, 'S thig Bride bhuidhe chruidh.

Tha glug a seo, Tha glag a seo, Tha glag a seo, Tha glug a seo, Tha slug a seo, Tha slag a seo, Tha slag a seo, Tha slug a seo, Tha seilcheag mhor bhog a seo, Tha brigh gach te dhe'n chrodh a seo, Tha rud is foir na mil is beoir, Tha bocan buidhe nodh a seo.

Tha rud is fearr na choir a seo, Tha dorn an t-sagairt mhoir a seo, Tha rud is fearr na chairbh a seo, Tha ceann an duine mhairbh a seo, Tha rud is fearr na fion a seo, Tha lan cuman Cairistine Do mhiala boga bine seo, Do mhiala boga bine seo.

Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig;

The mild will come, The kind will come, The loving will come, The devious will come, The brim-full of the globe will come, To set the churn a-running; The kindly Columba will come in his array; And the golden-haired Bride of the kine.

A splash is here, A plash is here, A plash is here, A splash is here, A crash is here, A squash is here, A squash is here, A crash is here, A big soft snail is here, The sap of each of the cows is here, A thing better than honey and spruce, A bogle yellow and fresh is here.

A thing better than right is here, The fist of the big priest is here, A thing better than the carcase is here, The head of the dead man is here, A thing better than wine is here, The full of the cog of Caristine Of live things soft and fair are here, Of live things soft and fair are here.

Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come;

Thig, a bhitheag; thig, a bheathag; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuthag; thig, a cheathag; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig an fhosgag a adhar, 'S thig cailleag a chinn-duibh.

Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig an ion, thig an smeol, 'S thig an ceol as a bhrugh; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chait chaothaich, Chur faoch air do ruch; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig.

Thig, a mhaduidh, 's caisg do phathadh; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a bhuichd; thig, a nuichd; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a dhiola-deirce Is deistiniche ruichd; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, gach creutair acrach, Is dioil tart do chuirp.

Come, thou life; (?) come, thou breath; (?) Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou cuckoo; come, thou jackdaw; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come; Come will the little lark from the sky, Come will the little carlin of the black-cap.

Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come; Come will the merle, come will the mavis, Come will the music from the bower; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou wild cat, To ease thy throat; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come.

Come, thou hound, and quench thy thirst; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou poor; come, thou naked; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come; Come, ye alms-deserver Of most distressful moan; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come; Come, each hungry creature, And satisfy the thirst of thy body.

Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; 'S e Dia duileach a chuir oirnn, 'S chan ora caillich le luibh. Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a Mhuire mhin-ghil, Is dilimich mo chuid; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a Bhride bhith-ghil, Is coistrig brigh mo chruidh.

Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Am maistreadh rinn Moire, Air astradh a ghlinne, A lughdachadh a boinne, A mheudachadh a h-ime; Blathach gu dorn, Im gu uileann; Thig, a chuinneag, thig; Thig, a chuinneag, thig.

Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come; It is the God of the elements who bestowed on us, And not the charm of a carlin with plant. Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou fair-white Mary, And endow to me my means; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou beauteous Bride, And bless the substance of my kine.

Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come; The churning made of Mary, In the fastness of the glen, To decrease her milk, To increase her butter; Butter-milk to wrist, Butter to elbow; Come, thou churn, come; Come, thou churn, come.