Gur duilich leam mar tha mi
    'S mo chridhe 'n sàs aig bròn
    Bhon an uair a dh'fhàg mi
    Beanntan àrd a' cheò
    Gleanntannan a'mhànrain
    Nan loch, nam bàgh 's nan sròm
    'S an eala bhàn tha tàmh ann
    Gach latha air 'm bheil mi 'n tòir.

    Mhagaidh na bi tùrsach
    rùin, ged gheibhinn bàs-
    Cò am fear am measg an t-sluaigh
    mhaireas buan gu bràth?
    Chan eil sinn uile ach air chuairt
    Mar dhìthein buaile fàs
    Bheir siantannan na blianna sios
    'S nach tog a' ghrian an àird.

    Tha 'n talamh leir mun cuairt dhìom
    'Na mheallan suas 's na neòil;
    Aig na 'shells a' bualadh -
    Cha leir dhomh bhuam le ceò:
    Gun chlaisneachd aig mo chluasan
    Le fuaim a' ghunna mhòir;
    Ach ged tha 'n uair seo [bad word] orm
    Tha mo smuaintean air NicLeòid.

    Air m' uilinn anns na [bad word] 
    Tha m' inntinn ort, a ghràidh;
    Nam chadal bidh mi a' [bad word] ort
    Cha dualach dhomh bhith slàn;
    Tha m' aigne air a lionadh
    Le cianalas cho làn
    'S [bad word] a dh'fhàs [bad word] orm
    nis air thuar bhith bàn.

    Ach ma thig an t-àm
    Is anns an Fhraing gu faigh mi bàs
    'S san uaigh gun tèid mo shìneadh
    Far eil na mìltean chàch,
    Mo bheannachd leis a' [bad word] 
    A' chaileag uasal bhbànn -
    Gach là a dh'fhalbh gun uallach dhi,
    Gun nàire [bad word] na dhàil.

    Oidhche mhath leat fhèin, a rùin
    Nad leabaidh chùbhraidh bhlàth;
    Cadal sàmhach air a chùl
    Do dhùsgadh sunndach slàn.
    Tha mise 'n seo 's an [bad word] fhuar
    'S nam chluasan fuaim bhàis
    Gun duil ri faighinn às le buaidh -
    Tha 'n cuan cho buan ri shnàmh.

    Sad I consider my condition
    With my heart engaged with sorrow
    From the very time that I left
    The high bens of the mist
    The little glens of dalliance
    Of the lochs, the bays and the forelands
    And the white swan dwelling there
    Whom I daily pursue.

    O Maggie, don't be sad
    Love, if I should die -
    Who among men
    Endures eternally?
    We are all only on a journey
    Like flowers in the deserted cattle fold
    That the year's wind and rain will bring down
    And that the sun cannot raise.

    All the ground around me
    Is like hail in the heavens;
    With the shells exploding -
    I am blinded by smoke:
    My ears are deafened
    By the roar of the cannon;
    But despite the savagery of the moment
    My thoughts are on the girl called MacLeod.

    Crouched in the trenches
    My mind is fixed on you, love;
    In sleep I dream of you
    I am not fated to survive;
    My spirit is filled
    With a surfeit of longing
    And my hair once so auburn
    Is now almost white.

    But if it should happen
    That I am killed in France
    And laid in the grave
    As thousands are already,
    My blessings go with the maiden,
    So noble and fair.
    May her every day be free of care,
    And her life a source of pride.

    Goodnight to you, love
    In your warm, sweet-smelling bed;
    May you have peaceful sleep and afterwards
    May you waken healthy and in good spirits.
    I am here in the cold trench
    With the clamour of death in my ears
    With no hope of returning victorious-
    The ocean is too wide to swim.