Mac Crimmon departs to return to you never!
The banshee’s wild voice sings the death dirge before me,
The pall of the dead for a mantle hangs o’er me;
But my heart shall not flag and my nerve shall not shiver,
Though devoted I go—to return again never!
‘Too oft shall the note of Mac Crimmon’s bewailing
Be heard when the Gael on their exile are sailing;
Dear land! to the shores whence unwilling we sever;
Return—return—return we shall never!
‘Cha till, cha till, cha till, sinn tuille!