O chi, chi mi na morbheanna
O chi, chi mi na corrbheanna
O chi, chi mi na coireachan
Chi mi na sgoran fo cheo

I see the place now where I was born
I hear the sound of my native tongue
I feel love and warm [bad word] Worth more to me than fine gold

I see wild wood, I see forest
I see fields, ready for the harvest
I see deer on the corries
All wrapped in garments of fog