Cutters and Gaugers: A Sea-Song of Whisky Smuggling

Recorded by Calum Maclean along with James Ross on 22 March 1957 from the singing of Angus Campbell, a native of Kilmory, Ardnamurchan who, by the time of putting the item on tape, was then staying in Lanarkshire, is a remarkable smuggling song full of vim and vigour with a very catchy melody and given a powerful rendition by the singer:

Mo Thruaighe Lèir Thu, ’ille Bhuidhe

Mo thruaigh lèir thu, ’ille bhuidh’,
’S ann an-diugh tha ’n dèidh ort!
Mo thruaigh lèir thu, ’ille bhuidh’.

Chuir sinn croinn sa bhàta
Dà latha mun d’fhàg sinn Èirinn.

Mo thruaigh lèir thu, ’ille bhuidh’…

Chuir sinne na croinn ùr innte
’S fhuair sinn smùid na dèidh leinn.

Bha cutteran is gàidsearan
Gar sàrachadh le chèile.

Bha fùdar is luaidhe Shasannach
’Toirt faram air a dèile.

Bha sinn sa Chuan Iar leith’,
Mun d’rinn a’ ghrian ach èirigh.

Nuair a dh’àt an fhairge
’S i ’n Earbag a bha treubhach.

Bha ’n Earbag ’s i cho dìonach
Ri botal fìon is cèir air.

Dol seachad Maol na h-Òighe
Gun dh’òl sinn air a chèile.

Dh’òl sinne slàint’ an sgiobair
Nach robh idir anns an èisdeachd.

’S dh’òl sinn buaidh don bhàta
Thug sàbhailt’ sinn à Èirinn.

Seachad Caisteal Dhubhairt leith’
Gun robh ar turas rèidh leinn.

’S bha sinne an Loch Àlainn
Mun d’rinn ach pàirt dhiubh èirigh.

And the translation may be rendered as follows:

Alas For You, Yellow-haired Lad

Alas for you, yellow-haired lad,
’Tis today that they’ll be after you!
Alas for you, yellow-haired lad.

We put masts into the boat
Two days before we sailed from Ireland.

Alas for you, yellow-haired lad…

Cutters and gaugers
Were harassing us together.

English powder and lead
Making her planks rattle.

We were in the Western Sea with her
Ere the break of day.

When the sea swelled
The Earbag [Young Roe] held strong.

The Earbag was as watertight
As a wine bottle sealed with wax

Going past the Mull of Oa
We toasted each other’s health.

We drank to the health of the skipper
Who wasn’t there to hear us.

And we drank to the health of the boat
Which carried us safely from Ireland.

Going past Castle Duart
Our course held steady.

And we arrived in Lochaline
Before most of the crew were up.

The performer, Angus Campbell (1898–1965) was born and brought up in Kilmory, Ardnamurchan, to John Campbell and Ann Cameron. His parents were married in 1891 in Kilmory. Campbell became a shipwright and later married Catherine MacLean Kennedy in St Columba’s Church, Glasgow, with issue. He predeceased his wife and he himself passed away in Glasgow in 1965.

The song refers to the lucrative trade in illicit whisky maintained between Ireland and the Scottish Highlands which was to the fore particularly during the mid-nineteenth century. The boat, so it would appear, had gone to Ireland for the express purpose of procuring some whisky and the skipper, for some reason or another, had gone ashore in search of water. During his absence the crew, observing that the gaugers were in hot pursuit in their cutter, set sail leaving the captain behind. That is the gist of the song.

Writing in The Oban Times, North Argyll, or Alastair “Sandy” Cameron (1896–1973), attributes the song’s composition to Donald Cameron, a son of Samuel Cameron known Somhairle Sgoilear, from Keil, Morvern. Samuel Cameron, who died in 1843, was a parochial schoolmaster of the parish of Morvern and features in the Gaelic dialogues of the Rev. Norman MacLeod (Caraid nan Gàidheal, 1783–1862). On entering the mercantile service as a young man, Donald eventually attained the rank of master. On retiring from his post, Donald became a storekeeper and postmaster of Strontian, and also the owner of the sailing brig Roe, mentioned in the song. The captain of the boat is referred to as Archibald Cameron (Gilleasbuig Mòr a’ Tenant), a native of Glenborrodale. North Argyll also adds that Donald Cameron later emigrated to America where he is thought to have died. Other correspondents, Alexander MacDiarmid and Donald Currie, maintain that the song was composed by another son of Samuel Cameron, namely Alexander Cameron (Alasdair a’ Mhaighstir Sgoile), who died in London in 1881, and was buried in the Churchyard of Keil, Morvern. According to local tradition, Alexander Cameron was known to have composed other songs but none of them seem to have survived.

 

 
Another version of the song was also recorded by Alan Bruford from the recitation of Colin Fletcher (1907–1996) from Torloisk, Mull, on 6 July 1967. He had learnt the song from Roderick MacNeill of Ulva who had the following additional or alternative verses:

’S thog sinn a cuid acraichean
Am Belfast an Èirinn.

Seachad Maol Chinn-tìre
Bha siaban oirr’ ag èiridh.

Cruaidh lèir gun tachradh e
Nan càillear sinn le chèile.

We hoisted our anchors
In Belfast in Ireland.

Going past the Mull of Kintyre
The sea-spray was splashing her.

A hard fate it would have been
If we had all been lost.

As mentioned in the above song summary, a number of letters appeared in The Oban Times from 1918, offering more information about the composer and the evolution of the song. Such newspaper sources are instrumental in gaining a social context for such songs as well as providing, in some instances, an authoritative account of some of those talented songmakers:

Mo Thruaigh Leir Thu, ’ille Bhuidhe

A SEA SONG

The following quaint melody I noted down from the singing of a very old Mull man. The song refers to the days of smuggling. The boat in question seems to have gone to Ireland to procure whisky, and when they arrived the captain went ashore in search of water. During his absence the crew, observing the Excise boat or cutter coming in pursuit, had to set sail and leave the captain behind. Perhaps some readers of the “Oban Times” could give particulars regarding authorship.
A. C. W.

Mo Thruaigh Leir Thu, ’ille Bhuidhe

Mo thruaigh lèir thu, ’ille bhuidhe,
’Sann an diugh tha’n deigh ort
Mo thruaigh lèir thu, ’ille bhuidhe!

Chuir sinn croinn ’sa bhàta
Dà là mu’n d’fhàg sinn Eirinn.

Chuir sinn na croinn ùr innte
’S gun d’fhuair sinn smùid na déigh leinn.

“Cutteran” a’s gàidsearan
Ga’r sàrachadh le chéile.

Fùdar ’s luaidhe Shasunnach
’Toirt farum air a déile.
Bha sinn ’s a’ Chuan-iar leatha,
Mu’n d’rinn a’ ghrian ach éirigh.

’N uair a dh’at an fhairge
’S i ’n “Earbag” a bha treubhach.

.    .    .    .    .

Seachad Maol na h-Oa
Gu’n d’ol sinn air a chéile.

Dh’òl sinn slàint’ an sgiabair
Nach robh idir anns an éisdeachd.

.    .    .    .    .

Seachad Caisteal Duairt leath’
Gu’n robh air turas réidh leinn.

Bha sinn an Loch-Alainn
Mu’n d’ rinn ach pàirt dhiubh éirigh.

A. C. W., ‘Clarsach nan Gaidheal: Mo Thruaigh Leis Thu, ’ille Bhuidhe’, The Oban Times, no. 3314 (1 Jun., 1918), p. 5

 

Mo Thruaidhe N’ Ille Bhuidhe

[to the editor of the “Oban Times.”]
                    June 6, 1918

Sir,—In reply to the question as to the authorship of this song, it was composed by Donald Cameron, a son of “Somhairle Sgolair,” Keil, Morven, an individual whose name is familiar to all readers of Dr. Norman Macleod’s writings.
    In early life Donald entered the mercantile service, where he attained the rank of master. After leaving the mercantile marine service, he became storekeeper and postmaster of Strontian, and also owner of the sailing brig Roe, mentioned in his song.
    It seems that he carried on an extensive trade with smugglers. The Government cutters were always on the lookout for the Roe’s appearance, but her trusty crew generally managed to elude their pursuers.
    The captain of the vessel on the occasion referred to by Miss Whyte was Archibald Cameron, “Gilleasbuig Mor a tenant,” a native of Glenborrodale. After leaving Strontian, the author emigrated to America, where he must have died.—I am, etc.,
                                NORTH ARGYLL.

Mo Thruaidhe N’ Ille Bhuidhe

[to the editor of the “Oban Times.”]
                    U.F. Manse
Morven, 11th June, 1918.

Sir,—Your esteemed correspondent, “A. C. W.” desires to know particulars of the author of the song, “Mo Thruaigh Leir thu, ’ille Bhuidhe,” the music of which was given by “A. C. W.” in a recent issue of the “Oban Times.” The author of the song was Alexander Cameron, youngest son of Samuel Cameron, for many years parochial schoolmaster of the parish of Morven. Samuel Cameron figures largely in “Caraid nan Gaidheal’s” well-known Gaelic dialogues. He died in 1843.
    Alexander Cameron was the author of one or two other songs, but these, I fear, are now lost. He died in London in 1881, and his remains are buried in the Churchyard of Keil, Morven. The song is about a boat that went to Ireland for whisky. While the captain was ashore for water, a Government cutter was seen approaching, and the men on board had to make off, leaving the captain behind. The song is of average merit, and we are glad to have the music of it by your correspondent.—I am, etc.,
                        ALEXANDER M’DIARMID

[to the editor of the “Oban Times.”]
                    Glenetive, 11th June, 1918.

Sir,—In response to my request for information regarding the authorship of the above song which appeared in “Clarsach nan Gaidheal” a few weeks ago, I have received the following interesting note from my friend, Mr Donald Currie, Glasgow:—

I learned his song when a mere boy in Lochaline, and for your information I rejoice to be able to tell you that it is the composition of Alexander Cameron, known to Morvenites as “Alasdair a’ Mhagaister [sic] Sgoil,” son of Samuel Cameron (“Somhairle Sgoileor”), Parish Schoolmaster, Session Clerk, Precentor and Sub-Postmaster. He lived at Kiel, Morven, at the same time of the first Macleods. He is referred to in “Caraid nan Gaidheal’s” works and also in the “Reminiscences of a Highland Parish” by Dr. Norman Macleod, of the Barony, father of Mr J. M. Macleod, M.P. The old schoolmaster is buried in Kiel Churchyard, and a suitably inscribed tombstone marks the spot. His son, the author of the verses in question, was inclined to be of a seafaring disposition, and the name of his vessel was the Roe. The old people, and especially my father, told me many interesting stories regarding his romantic career. I understand he composed many other verses of local connections. I tried a few years ago to collection some of them, but none of the old people alive knew them, so could not make any progress.—I am, etc.
                                    A. C. W.

 

The earliest version of the song to appear in print stems from Archibald Sinclair’s An t-Òranaiche (1879), pp. 97–98:

ORAN MU BHATA ‘CHAIDH DO DH-EIRINN A DH’ IARRAIDH UISGE-BHEATHA; AGUS AIR DO ‘N SGIOBAIR DOL AIR TIR AIR SON UISGE, CHUNNCAS AN Cutter a’ TIGHINN AGUS B’ EIGINN TEICHEADH ’S AN SGIOBAIR ’FHAGAIL.

Mo thruaigh léir thu, ille bhuidhe,
’S ann an diugh tha ’n déigh ort,
Mo thruaigh léir thu, ille bhuidhe!

Chuir sinn croinn ’s a bhàta
Dà là mu ’n d’ fhàg sinn Eirinn.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

Chuir sinn na croinn ùr innte,
’S gu ’n d’ fhuair sinn smùid na déigh leinn.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

Cutteran a’s gàidsearan,
Ga ’r sàrachadh le chéile.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

Fùdar ’s luaidhe Shasunnach
’Toirt farum air a déile.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

Bha sinn ’s a’ Chuan-iar leatha,
Mu ’n d’ rinn a’ ghrian ach éirigh.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

’N uair a dh’ at an fhairge,
’S i ’n “Earbag” a bha treubhach.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

An “Earbag” ’s i cho dionach
Ri botal fion a’s céir air.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

Seachad Maol na h-Oa,
Gun d’ òl sinn air a chéile.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

Dh’ òl sinn slàint’ an sgiobair
Nach robh idir anns an éisdeachd.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

Dh’ òl sinn buaidh do’n bhàta
Thug sàbhailt’ sinn á Eirinn.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

Bha uisge ’s clacha-meallainn ann,
A’s canvas g’a reubadh.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

Seachad Caisteal Duairt leath’,
Gu ’n robh ar turas réidh leinn.
Mo thruaigh, etc.

Bha sinn an Loch-Alainn
Mu ’n d’ rinn ach pàirt dhiubh éirigh,
Mo thruaigh, etc.

The Rev. Alexander Stewart, or Nether Lochaber as he was better known to readers of the Inverness Courier, made the following observation about the song in a his review of Sinclair’s An t-Òranaiche:

The author...of the song on page 97, was Donald Cameron, son of the late Mr Samuel Cameron, parish schoolmaster of Morven. He was owner and skipper of a sloop called the “Roe”―the “Earbag” of the song―when smuggling had not yet entirely ceased, and when revenue cruisers or cutters, as they were termed, still found occasional employment in chasing and capturing, if they could, the light-heeled craft that, in the face of every obstacle, pursued an illicit traffic too profitable and exciting to be either voluntarily abandoned or easily suppressed by force. Cameron was the author of several other little song or “luinneags” that in our boyhood were very popular in Morven and the neighbouring districts.

References:
Alasdair Cameron [North Argyll], ‘Mo Thruaighe ’n ille Bhuidhe’, The Oban Times, no. 3317 (15 June 1918), p. 3
Angus Campbell, ‘Mo Thruaighe Lèir Thu, ’ille Bhuidhe’, SA1957/6/B3 which is available to listen to on Tobar an Dualchais [http://www.tobarandualchais.co.uk/fullrecord/45710/1]
Colin Fletcher (Torloisk, Mull), ‘Mo Thruaigh Léir Thu, ’ille Bhuidhe’, Tocher, no. 2 (Summer 1971), pp. 67–68
Alexander M’Diarmaid, ‘Mo Thruaidhe ’n ille Bhuidhe’, The Oban Times, no. 3316 (15 June 1918), p. 5
Doiminic Mac Giolla Bhríde & Griogair Labhruidh, Guaillibh a’ Chéile (Dunach Records: DUN1001, 2010)
Gilleasbuig Mac-na-Ceàrdadh, An t-Oranaiche: Comhchruinneachadh de Orain Ghaidhealach, a’ Chuid Mhor Dhiubh a Nis air an Clo air son na Ciad Uaire (Glasgow: Archibald Sinclair, 1879), pp. 97–98
(Rev.) Alexander Stewart [Nether Lochaber], ‘Nether Lochaber Column’, The Inverness Courier, no. 3073 (5 October 1876), p. 2
A. C. Whyte, ‘Clarsach nan Gaidheal: Mo Thruaigh Leis Thu, ’ille Bhuidhe’, The Oban Times, no. 3314 (1 June 1918), p. 5

Illustrations:
Various illustrations of cutters

Another Wee Drappie, Big Donald

Whisky and songs not to mention stories have been popular in Gaelic tradition for many centuries. Such is the very strong and resonant connection of whisky with the Highlands and Islands of Scotland that it is easy to forget that until the seventeenth century the most popular drink, especially amongst the nobility, was Spanish or French wine which was imported in huge quantities. Whisky is now a global phenomenon and its ever-increasing market place share reflects its popularity furth of Scotland. 

The following amusing anecdote was collected by Calum Maclean from the recitation of John MacDonald of Highbridge on the 10th of January, 1951. The most interesting and let’s face it amusing part of the story is how the protagonist interprets the bird song which matches his own wishes exactly. Onomatopoeic elements in Gaelic stories are not that common but this one is as good an example as any:

Bha duine ann a seo agus bha e gu math trom air mac na braiche. Ach thuirt e ris fhéi’ gu robh e a’ dol a sgur dheth agus thug e bóidean do’n bhean gu sguireadh e dheth.

“Agus an t-aon dòigh a nì mi: théid mi do’n taigh-òsta,” thuirt e, “agus gheibh mi botul uisge-bheatha. Agus bidh e a staigh ’s an taigh agus cha téid boinne ás. Agus ’s e sin an dòigh a bheir mi na bóidean nach gabh mi e.”

Agus ’s ann mar seo a bha. Bha e a’ tighinn air adhart agus am botul uisge-bheatha aige. Agus chuala e smeòrach a’ cur dhith:

“Dileag bheag, a Dhòmhnaill Mhóir. Dileag bheag, a Dhòmhnaill Mhóir.”

“Ma-tà, cha chreid mi nach gabh mi do chomhairle,” thuirt e.

’S e seo a rinn e.

Thug e an corcas ás a’ bhotul agus ghabh e steall dheth. Choisich e air adhart.

Thuirt i:

“Dileag eile, dileag eile, dileag eile,” thuirt i.

“An-dà, ghabhaidh mi do chomhairle, a ghalad,” thuirt e.

An uair seo bha am botul a’ dol a sìos gu math is chuir e ’na phòca e is dh’fhalbh e.

Chuala e smeòrach air gheug a’ cur dhith:

“Gabh tuillidh. Gabh tuillidh. Gabh tuillidh.”

Ghabh e e. Bha e ’ga chur ri cheann agus e ’ga ghabhail gu gasda ’n uair a chuala e:

“Sgob ás e. Sgob ás e. Sgob ás e.”

Thog e ás a chuile boinne a bh’ ann.

“Car son nach gabhainn do chomhairle.”

Agus thilg e am botul ri taobh an rathaid mhóir agus choisich e dhachaidh. Agus bha e a cheart cho dona leis an deoch an latha sin agus a bha e an oidhche roimhe sin.

And the translation goes something like this:

There was a man here and he was quite a heavy drinker. But he said to himself that he was going to stop and promised his wife that he would.

“And the way that’ll I do it: I’ll go the pub,” he said, “and I’ll get a bottle of whisky and keep it in the house and not a drop will be taken out. That’s the very way in which I’ll fulfil my pledge.”

And that’s how it was. He was coming home carrying a bottle of whisky and he heard a thrush warbling:

“A wee drappie, Big Donald. A wee drappie, Big Donald.”

“Well, then, I think I’ll take your advice,” he said.

That’s the very thing he did.

He threw the cork from the bottle and he took a glug. He then walked on.

She warbled:

“Another drappie, another drappie, another drappie,” she sang.

“Well, I’ll take your advice, my dear,” he said.

By the time the bottle was quite empty he had put it in his pocket and walked on.

He heard a thrush on a branch warbling:

“Have more. Have more. Have more.”

He took more. He put the bottle to its end and was drinking away when he heard:

“Scoop it all. Scoop it all. Scoop it all.”

He drank every drappie that was left.

“Indeed, why wouldn’t I take your advice.”

And he threw the empty bottle away besides the highway and he walked home. He was just as bad a drinker from that day as he had been the previous night.

Reference:

NB SSS 10, pp. 919–920

Image:

Smeòrach / Thrush / Mavis

Corporal MacKinnon at New Year

Bunacaimbe beach, Arisaig

The following story is yet another short historical anecdote recorded by Calum Maclean from John MacDonald of Highbridge and transcribed by him on 8 January 1951. Corporal Alasdair MacKinnon (1770–1814) was born at Bunacaimbe in Arisaig. Joining the army in 1794, he served in the 92nd Gordon Highlanders and also in the company raised by Captain Simon MacDonald of Morar. MacKinnon would later compose a lament for his military patron.

After being raised to the rank of corporal, MacKinnon saw action at the Battle of Egmont-op-Zee or Bergen in 1799. Two years later MacKinnon was serving in Egypt when he suffered severe wounds that were nearly fatal during the Battle of Alexandria in 1801. His seemingly lifeless corpse was found on the battlefield and if it were not for the intervention of his good friend, Sergeant MacLean, then being buried alive—however barely—would have been his fate.

MacKinnon was immediately conveyed to a hospital ship and recovered, though not fully, and on arrival back in Britain was discharged from the army with a pension. On eventually recovering from the effects of his wounds, MacKinnon joined the Royal Veteran Battalion some time afterwards at Fort William where he died in 1814 and was buried in “The Craigs” with full military honours.

Although MacKinnon only composed very few Gaelic songs they are nonetheless remarkable for their quality. He composed at least one other great Gaelic song, namely Blàr na h-Òlaind (The Battle of Holland). It seems that battles were the very thing that stirred his poetic imagination.

Judging from the following anecdote it would seem that MacKinnon’s poetic skill was very much to the fore from a very young age and it would also seem he had a taste for whisky:

Bha an Corpolair Mac Fhionghuin cha robh ann ach balach òg, glé òg. Agas rugadh e shìos am Bun na Caime an Àrasaig. Agas chaochail e anns na h-ochd ciad diag agas a ceithir diag. Agas ’n uair a bha e ’na bhalach òg dh’ fal^abh feadh na dùthcha aig oidhche Bliadhn’ Uire, thainig e chun taigh agas ’s e Taigh na Drochaid a theireadh iad ris. Bha drochaid goirid bhuaidh. Agas ’n uair a bhuail iad aig an dorus, thuir^st a’ fear.

“Chan fhaigh aon duine agaibh a staigh gus an gabh sibh ran.”

B’ e sin an dòigh a bh’ ac(hc)a aig a’ Bhliadhn’ Ùr.

“Agas an duine is fhearr a bheir rann seachad, gheibh e làn cuach a Cuach a’ phrionnsa de dh’ uisge-beatha." Agas ’s ann mar seo a bha. Bha an Corpolair mac Fhionghuin air an fhear ma dheireadh a chaidh a staigh chun an doruist.

“Dé th’ agat-sa ri ghràitinn, ’ille?”

“Chan eil móran ach

Raine mi taigh na Drochaid

Is cha b’ e ’m bodach a rinn mi dhùsgadh,

Dh' fhiadhaich e a staigh sinn le fàilte

Gu faigheamaid slàinte a Cuach a’ Phrionnsa.

Is rinn mi ciamhneach' air na h-àrmainn,

Is a liuthad blàr 's an do loisg iad fùdar.”

“’S e sin an rann is fhearr dhiubh. Thig a staigh agas gheibh thu deoch a Cuach a’ Phrionnsa"

This story concerns Corporal MacKinnon who was then a very young lad. He was born down by Bunacaimbe in Arisaig and he died in 1814. And when he was a young lad going about the district on Hogmanay he came to a house which they called Taigh na Drochaid (‘Bridgehouse’). There was a bridge nearby. When they knocked on the door, the man said.

“No one will get in until you sing a verse.”

That was the way of things at Hogmanay.

“The one who gives the best verse will get a full cupful of whisky from the Prince’s Quoich.”

And that was how things turned out.

Corporal MacKinon was the last one to come through the doorway.

“What have you got to say for youself, laddie?”

Only this:

“To Taigh na Drochaid I came

But the old man kept me not awake,

With a welcome he invited us

To toast the Prince’s Quoich

That recalled the warriors

Of many battles who fired gunpowder.”

“That’s the best verse out of all of them. Come in and you’ll get a stoup from the Prince’s Quoich”

References:
SSS NB 7, pp. 602–03

Image:

Bunacaimbe  beach, Arisaig / Àrasaig