The history of Barra bears some study too — particularly with regard to the hardships the islanders faced in the past (this was mainly due to the actions of those who had taken ownership of the island). The archaeology is also of great interest.
Air iomall an talamh-àitich, eadar dhà sholas, tha a’ churracag a’ ruith ʼs a’ stad, ʼs a’ ruith ʼs a’ stad, is cobhar bàn a broillich, mar rionnag an fheasgair, ga lorg ʼs ga chall aig mo shùilean, is tùis an t-samhraidh ga lorg ʼs ga chall aig mo chuinnlean, is fras-mhullach tonn an t-sonais ga lorg ʼs ga chall aig mo chuimhne.
Bàgh Phabail fodham, is baile Phabail air fàire, sluaisreadh siorraidh a’ chuain, a lorg ʼs an eag nan sgeir, is fo ghainmhich a’ gheodha, gluasad bithbhuan a’ bhaile, am bàs ʼs an ùrtan, an ùrnaigh ʼs an t-suirghe, is mile cridhe ag at ʼs a’ seacadh, is ann an seo tha a’ churracag a’ ruith ʼs a’ stad, ʼs a’ ruith ʼs a’ stad.
Translation by Derick Thomson
On the edge of the arable land, between two lights, the plover runs and stops, and runs and stops, the white foam of its breast like the star of evening, discovered and lost in my looking, and the fragrance of summer, discovered and lost by my nostrils, and the topmost grains of the wave of content, discovered and lost by my memory.
Bayble Bay below me, and the village on the skyline, the eternal action of the ocean, its seeking and searching between the pebble stones and in the rock crannies, and under the sand of the cove; the everlasting movement of the village, death and christening, praying and courting, and a thousand hearts swelling and sinking, and here, the plover runs and stops, and runs and stops.