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Cha Till Maccruimein (Departure of the 4th Camerons)
The pipes in the streets were playing bravely, The marching lads went by With merry hearts and voices singing My friends marched out to die; But I was hearing a lonely pibroch Out of an older war, ‘Farewell, farewell, farewell, MacCrimmon, MacCrimmon comes no more.’
And every lad in his heart was dreaming Of honour and wealth to come, And honour and noble pride were calling To the tune of the pipes and drum; But I was hearing a woman singing On dark Dunvegan shore, ‘In battle or peace, with wealth or honour, MacCrimmon comes no more.’
And there in front of the men were marching With feet that made no mark, The grey old ghosts of the ancient fighters Come back again from the dark; And in front of them all MacCrimmon piping A weary tune and sore, ‘On gathering day, for ever and ever, MacCrimmon comes no more.’