Vārdi: Suzanne Clachair. Serenade. Song Of The Gift.

O sibh ris a chrann is am
monadh is gleann,
O sibh bho'n a mhachair tha mo
shoraidh oirbh fhein,
Air mhuir againn is lear theid mi
ri mo chailin,
Cuir ise agair orm, mo chridh' is
mo leannan.

Cuir an tabhartas oirbh an
tabhartas dearbh time,
Fior is dileas tha e, cum sibh
na d' chuimhne mi fhein,
Cha dheanam riamh dearmad theid
mi sgriob ma-ta mor,
Tha tabhartas ma oirbh togail
Mi ribh taigh fhein.

Oh ye of the harrow the glen and the dell
Oh ye of the meadow I bid thee farewell
I go to my bonnie with heart gold and fair
O'er the sea to my laddie. He beckons me there

So this gift I leave thee to hold dear and true
The sweet gift of morning that ever we knew
So ye'll nay forget me though far I may roam
'Tis this gift I leave thee to carry me home

The mist o'er the heather shall nay bring him near
The lock whispers gently though none but I hear
Then seize now the flower that yet blooms so sweet
True pleasures of auld lie beneath waters deep

So this gift I leave thee to hold dear and true
The sweet gift of morning that ever we knew
So ye'll nay forget me though far I may roam
'Tis this gift I leave thee to carry me home