Mhic Iain 'ic Sheumais
Tha do sgeul air m' aire
Air farail ail eò, air farail ail eò
Latha Blàr a' Chèithe
Bha feum air mo leanabh
Hi hò hi ri a bho hi èileadh
Hi ho hi rì a bhò ro a, hu o hi o
    
Latha Blàr na Fèitheadh
Bha do lèine ballach
Bha fuil do chuirp uasail
Air uachdar an fhearainn

Bha mi fhìn ga sùghadh
Gus na thùch air m' anail
Bha 'n saighead na spreòd
'N corp seòlta na glaine
    
Bu cheannard ron t-sluagh thu
Dol suas thro thìr aineoil
Cha do ghabh thu 'm bristeadh
Làmh leigeadh a faladh

On latha thug thu 'n cuan ort
Bha [bad word] air na beannaibh
Bha snigh' air na speuraibh
'S bha na reulta galach
    
'S càirdeach a Rìgh Leòdhais
Mo leòmhann glan, uasal
Mo Mhac Iain 'ic Sheumais
Duine treubhach, smiorail

Oh son of John, son of James
Your tale is on my mind
Air farail ail eò, air farail ail eò
The day of the battle of the Cèith
My child was needed
Hi hò hi ri a bho hi èileadh
Hi ho hi rì a bhò ro a, hu o hi o
    
The day of the battle of the Fèith
Your shirt was bespattered
The blood of your noble body
Was all over the ground
   
I myself was drinking it
'Til it made me gag
The arrow was [bad word] From your shapely, pure body
   
You would be a leader of the people
Going up through unfamiliar land
You could not be broken
Despite the bloodshed
    
From the day you left for sea
Even the mountains were gloomy
The skies wept
The stars were tearful
    
My fine, noble lion
relation of the King of Lewis
My son of John, song of James
valiant, vigorous man