Whan ta funeral is passin’ slow, slow, through ta klen,
Ta hearts all soft wi’ ouskie what prings tears from ta men!
’Tis ta Coronach’s loot wail soonin’ solemn an’ kran,
From to kreat Hielan’ pagpipe, ta kran Hielan’, etc.
Whan ta wattin tauks place, O! what shoy, frolic an’ fun,
An’ ta peoples all meetit, an’ ta proose has been run,
Tere’s no music for dancin’, has yet ever been fan,
Like ta kreat Hielan’ pagpipe, ta kran Hielan’, etc.
O, tat she hat worts to tolt all here lofe an’ telight
She has in ta pagpipes, twoult teuk long, long years to write,