Macgregor's Gathering

The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,

And the clan has a name that is nameless by day—

Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach!

Our signal for fight, which from monarchs we drew,

Must be heard but by night, in our vengeful halloo—

Then halloo, halloo, halloo, Grigalach!

Glenorchy's proud mountains, Calchuirn and her towers,

Glenstrae, and Glenlyon, no longer are curs—

We're landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!

But, doomed and devoted by vassal and lord,

Macgregor has still both his heart and his sword—

Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!

If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles,

Give their roof to the flames, and their flesh to the eagles—

Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Grigalach!

While there's leaves on the forest, or foam on the river,

Macgregor, despite them, shall flourish for ever!

Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach!