MacCrimmon's Lament/Maccrimmon's Sweetheart/

O’er Coolin’s speaks the night is creeping
The banshee’s croon is round us sweeping;
Blue eyes in Duin are dim with weeping
Since thou art gone and ne’er returnest
No more, no more, no more returning;
In peace nor in war is he returning;
Till dawns the great day of doom and burning
MacCrimmon is home no more returning
The breeze of the bens is gently blowing;
The brooks in the glens are softly flowing;
Where boughs their darkest shades are throwing
Birds mourn for thee who ne’er returnest
Its dirges of woe the sea is sighing
The boat under sail unmov’d is lying;
The voice of waves in sadness dying
Say, thou art away and ne’er returnest
We’ll see no more MacCrimmon’s returning
In peace nor in war is he returning
Till dawns the great day of woe and burning
For him, there’s no more returning