Full Lyrics
Anon., translation attr. John Galt (1779–1839)
Fair these broad meads–these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers’ land.
Listen to me, as when ye heard our father
Sing long ago the song of other shores–
Listen to me, and then in chorus gather
All your deep voices as ye pull your oars;
Fair these broad meads–these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers’ land.
From the lone shieling of the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas–
Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.
Fair these broad meads–these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers’ land.
