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FLORA MACDONALD'S LAMENT Far over yon hills of the heather so green And down by the corrie that sings to the sea The bonnie young Flora sat sighing her lane The dew on her plaid and the tear in her e'e. She looked at a boat with the breezes that swung Away on the wave like a bird on the main And aye as it lessened she sighed and she sung Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again. Farewell to my hero, the gallant and young Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again. The moorcock that craws on the brow of Ben Connal He kens o' his bed in a sweet mossy hame The eagle that soars on the cliffs of Clanronald Unawed and unhunted, his eyrie can claim The solan can sleep on his shelve of the shore The cormorant roost on his rock of the sea But oh! There is one whose hard fate I deplore Nor house, manor hame, in this country has he The conflict is past and our name is no more There's nought left but sorrow for Scotland and me. The target is torn from the arm of the just The helmet is cleft on the brow of the brave The claymore forever in darkness must rust But red is the sword of the stranger and slave The hoof of the horse and the foot of the proud Have trod o'er the plumes on the bonnet of blue Why slept the red bolt in the breast of the cloud When tyranny revelled in blood of the true? Farewell, my young hero! The gallant and good The crown of thy fathers is torn from thy brow. Recorded by Len Graham on "Do Me Justice," 1995. @scots filename[ FLORMACD JL Feb07 |
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