HERE is a bit of crow language,--a conversation with a frog. When it is repeated in Gaelic it can be made absurdly like the notes of the creatures.
"Ghille Criosda mhic Dhughail cuir a nois do mhàg."
Christ's servant, son of Dugald, put up thy paw.
"Tha eagal orm, tha eagal orm, tha eagal orm."
I fear.
"Gheibh thu còta gorm a's léine. Gheibh thu còta gorm a's léine."
Thou shalt have a blue coat and a shirt.
Then the frog put up his hand and the hoodie took him to a hillock and began to eat him, saying,
"Biadh dona lom! 's bu dona riabh thu."
Bad bare meat and bad wert thou ever.
"Caite bheil do ghealladh math a nis?" said the frog.
Where is thy good promise now?
"Sann ag ol a bha sinn an latha sin. Sann ag ol a bha sinn an latha sin."
It is drinking we were on that day.
"Toll ort a ruid ghrannda gur beag feola tha air do chramhan."
"Toll ort!" said the hoodie.
A hole in thee, ugly thing! how little flesh is on thy bones.