Since I left the land of my youth
Great is my sadness and yearning
Now I never see the hillocks
The hollows or the pools
I am far from my friends
Although I remember them well
And the voices which welcomed me
Are now no longer heard

The high shady hills
With their peaks in the clouds
There is nothing more beautiful in the land
When they are cloaked in heather
Until death closes my eyes
And I hear and see no more
I will long for the Isle of Skye
Where I spent my youth

When the summer sun shines
On the beautiful banks
And you see the flowers growing
The prettiest under the sun
They have never seen a gardener
And no hand ever cultivated them
But growing from the world of nature
Is every bush, flower and rose

I am far from the place
Where I was brought up
I am far from the Gaelic tongue
The poetry and the music
I am no longer welcomed
With the words "How are you, friend?"
And I will never forget my homeland
Until I lie in the grave

I cannot leave Edinbaine
Without composing a verse in its honor
Many of my friends are there
And I belong there myself
It is there that my parents reside
Who have guided my life's steps
And as long as they live there
There will be a welcome there for me