I found the track of the swan on the lake,
The swan on the lake, the swan on the lake;
I found the track of the swan on the lake,
But not the track of baby O!
I found the track of the yellow fawn,
The yellow fawn, the yellow fawn;
I found the track of the yellow fawn,
But could not trace my baby O!
I’ve found the trail of the mountain mist,
The mountain mist, the mountain mist;
I’ve found the trail of the mountain mist,
But ne’er a trace of baby O!
A Boat Song.
ANON.
Ho, my bonnie boatie,
Thou bonnie boatie mine!
So trim and tight a boatie
Was never launched on brine.
Ho, my bonnie boatie,
My praise is justly thine
Above all bonnie boaties
Were builded on Loch Fyne!
Hò mo bhàta laghach,
’S tu mo bhàta grinn;
Hò mo bhàta laghach,
’S tu mo bhàta grinn.
Hò mo bhàta laghach,
’S tu mo bhàta grinn:
Mo bhàta boidheach laghach,
Thogadh taobh Loch Fin.
To build thee up so firmly,
I knew the stuff was good;
Thy keel of stoutest elm-tree,
Well fixed in oaken wood;
Thy timbers ripely seasoned
Of cleanest Norway pine
Well cased in ruddy copper,
To plough the deep were thine!
Hò mo bhàta, etc.
How lovely was my boatie
At rest upon the shore,
Before my bonnie boatie
Had known wild ocean’s roar.
Thy deck so smooth and stainless,
With such fine bend thy rim,
Thy seams that know no gaping,
Thy masts so tall and trim.
Hò mo bhàta, etc.
And bonnie was my boatie
Afloat upon the bay,
When smooth as mirror round her
The heaving ocean lay;
While round the cradled boatie
Light troops of plumy things
To praise the bonnie boatie
Made music with their wings.
Hò mo bhàta, etc.
How eager was my boatie
To plough the swelling seas,
When o’er the curling waters
Full sharply blew the breeze!
O, ’twas she that stood to windward,
The first among her peers,
When shrill the blasty music
Came piping round her ears!
Hò mo bhàta, etc.