Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri, etc.
Greatly better be with Gregor
In a mantle rude and torn,
Than with little Lowland barons
Where fine silk and lace are worn.
Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri, etc.
Though it rained and roared together,
All throughout the stormy day,
Gregor, in a crag, could find me
A kind shelter where to stay.
Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri, etc.
Bahu, bahu, little nursling—
Oh! so tender now and weak;
I fear the day will never brighten
When revenge for him you’ll seek.
Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri,
Though I cry, my child, with thee—
Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri,
Yet he hears not thee nor me!
Drowned.
LATER GAELIC
No wonder my heart it is sore,
No wonder the tears that I weep;
My true love I’ll see him no more,
He lies fathoms down in the deep.