Looking at an online file, through books dot google dot com, of "Songs of a Roving Celt."
Here's a really striking one, I think it's the only one in the volume like this.


on page 35: A Bi-Lingual Ditty

To sing thy praises would I try
    Cha bhard mi gus mo gradh a seinn
    Na m'aonar s'mi ann so leam fhein
So distant from the Isle of Skye.


But though the waves are raging white
    A's muir na'n tonn a'g eiridh ardh
    Cur eadar mise a's mo gradh
To thee my fancy takes its flight.

And hours like fleeting moments speed
    Nuair smaoineacheas mi air do thlachd;
    Ged bhiodh mo chridhe fodh broin 's fodh smachd
What other balm could sufferer need?

Skill'd in poetic art were I
    Air te do chliu gu'n togainn fonn,
    Ach's ard na beann a's fuar na'n tonn
Between me and the Isle of Skye.