It rarely makes the news today, the place where I
I was no more than three days old
Too young to
Spring in Macedonia
The last clean pocket on a blood soaked
Nil Si I nGra
Níl sé ach anuraidh o phós mé
Is
But for you the Cuillin would be
an exact and serrated
The woman who read my palm today was a friend
Fa\ili, fa\ili, fa\ili o/ ro;Fa\ili, fa\ili, fa\ili o/ ro;Fa\ili, fa\ili,
An ciaradh m'fheasgair 's mo bheath' air claoidhMo rosg air
When day is over and life is doneMine eyes have
Alasdair Mhic ohoCholla ghasda ohoAs do laimh-s' gun ohoEarbhainn tapaidh
Alasdair, son of exile ChollaIn your hand I would entrust
Here is the song "Am buchaille ban" which Capercaillie do
An ataireachd bhuan, cluinn fuaim na h-ataireachd a\rdTha torann a
O young Charles Stewart, your cause is the reason of
With a crime of passion lie those dreams of yesterday
Broken
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