Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri, etc.
Oh! could I fly up with the skylark—
Had I Gregor’s strength in hand;
The highest stone that’s in yon castle
Should lie lowest on the land.
Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri, etc.
Would I saw Finlarig blazing,
And the smoke of Bealach smelled,
So that fair, soft-handed Gregor
In these arms once more I held.
Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri, etc.
While the rest have all got lovers
Now a lover have I none;
My fair blossom, fresh and fragrant,
Withers on the ground alone.
Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri, etc.
While all other wives the night-time
Pass in slumber’s balmy bands,
I upon my bedside weary,
Never cease to wring my hands.
Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri, etc.
For, far better be with Gregor
Where the heather’s in its prime,
Than with mean and Lowland barons
In a house of stone and lime.