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'S 'sann phìl e mi 'nuair bha mi
Gun tuigse, gun slainnt, gun treoir.
Bithidh seann duine liath ann
'S e ag iarraidh ghuth bhi aid,
Molani-s' e gu siorruidh
'S ann dhomh a b'fhiach thar-chaich,
Chaith mise mo neart 's mo bhliadhnaibh
A's mi riabh do'n pheac' 'mo thraill
'S ann aig an aon uair-deug, orm-sa
Dh'eirich grian na'n gras.
Bithidh cinnich dheth gach seors' ann
Ag iarruidh gloir thoirt dha,
Airson gun d'sgap e an ceo sin
A chornhdaich iad gach la ;
'S gun sheol e dhaibh na throcair
An dochas chur na bhas,
'S gu cinnt' their iad bu choir dhuinn
A gloir thoirt da thar chaich.
Bithidh Pharasaich fhuair trocair
A seinn an oran nuaidh ;
B'e 'n oibreachean an dochas
Ach thug e 'n cleochd sinn uath',
'S bu mhiann leo bhi toirt gloir dba
O's cionn gach seors', do'n t-sluagh,
O'n shaor e le f huil fèin iad
'S gach fasgadh breig thoirt uath.
Their learn gur binn an ceol sud
'S gur solasach an stri ;
Bitheas iad a sealltainn comhladh
Air mise 's gloir an Eigh ;
Toirt cliu 's onair ard dha
'S gu brath cha bhi iad sgith,
Millteabh do nihillteabh an aireamh,
Ach 's aon a nihain an cridh.

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