The shapeliest, comeliest, Faultless in bearing-- Cheerful, cordial, and kind, The red and white wearing, Well looks the blue-eyed chief; Blue, bright, and daring, His eye o’er his red cheek shines, Blue, bright, calmly daring.
His red cheek shines, Like hip on the brier-tree, ’Neath the choicest of curly hair Waving and free. A warm hearth, a drinking cup, Meet shall he see, And a choice of good armour Whoe’er visits thee.
Drinking-horns, trenchers bright, And arms old and new; Long, narrow-bladed swords, Cold, clear, and blue-- These are seen in thy mansion, With rifles and carbines, too; And hempen-strung long-bows, Of hard, healthy yew.
Long-bows and cross-bows, With strings that well wear; Arrows, with polish’d heads, In quivers full and fair, From the eagle’s wing feather’d, With silk fine and rare; And guns dear to purchase-- Long slender--are there.
My heart’s with thee, hero! May Mary’s son keep My stripling who loves The lone forest to sweep; Rejoicing to feel there The solitude deep Of the long moor and valley, And rough mountain steep.
The mountain steep searching And rough rocky chains; The old dogs he caresses, The young dogs he restrains: Then, soon from my chieftain’s spear The life-blood rains Of the red-hided deer or doe And the green heather stains.
Fall the red stag, the white-bellied doe; Then stand on the heather, Thy gentle companions, Well arm’d altogether, Well taught on the hunter’s craft, Well skill’d in the weather; They know the rough sea as well As the green heather!
There’s a sound on the hill, Not of joy but of ailing; Dark-hair’d women mourn-- Beat their hands, with loud wailing.
They cry out, Ochon! For the young Monaltri, Who went to the hill; But home came not he.
Without snood, without plaid Katrina’s gone roaming. O Katrina, my dear! Homeward be coming.
Och! hear, on the castle Yon pretty bird singing, “Snoodless and plaidless, Her hands she is ringing.”
Hó-bhan, hó-bhan, Goiridh òg O, Goiridh òg O, Goiridh òg O; Hó-bhan, hó-bhan, Goiridh òg O, I’ve lost my darling baby O!
I left my darling lying here, A-lying here, a-lying here; I left my darling lying here, To go and gather blaeberries.
I’ve found the wee brown otter’s track, The otter’s track, the otter’s track; I’ve found the wee brown otter’s track, But ne’er a trace of baby O!