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O where shall I gae seek my bred?
Or where shall I gae wander?
O where shall I gae hide my head?
For here I'll bide nae langer.
The seas may row, the winds may blow,
And swathe me round in danger,
My native land I must forego,
And roam a lonely stranger.

The glen that was my father's own,
Must be, by his, forsaken,
And the house that was my father's home
Is leveled with the brake.
Ochon ochon, our glory's oer,
Stole by a mean deceiver,
Our hands are on the broad claymore,
But might is broke forever.

And thou my prince, my injured prince,
Thy people have disowned thee,
Have hunted and have driven thee hence
With ruined chiefs around thee.
Though hard beset, when I forget
Thy fate, young helpless rover,
This broken heart shall cease to beat
And all its griefs be over.

Farewell, farewell, dear Caledon
Land of Gael no longer!
A stranger fills thy ancient throne,
In guile and treachery stronger.
Thy brave, thy just, fall in the dust,
On ruin's brink they quiver,
Heaven's pitying ee is closed on thee,
Adieu, adieu forever.

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