Séist:
Fhir a' bhàta, na hóro eile
Fhir a' bhàta, na hóro eile
Fhir a' bhàta, na hóro eile
Mo shoraidh slàn leat 's gach àit' an déid thu

'S tric mi sealltainn on chnoc as àirde
Dh'fheuch am faic mi fear a' bhàta
An dig thu 'n-diugh na 'n dig thu màireach
'S mar dig thu idir gur [bad word] a tha mi

Tha mo chridhe-sa briste brùite
'S tric na deòir [bad word] o m' shùilean
An dig thu nochd na 'm bi mo dhùil riut
Na 'n dùin mi 'n doras le osna thùrsaich?

'S tric mi faighneachd de luchd nam bàta
fac' iad thu na 'm bheil thu sàbhailt
Ach 's ann a tha gach aon dhiubh 'g ràitinn
Gur gòrach mise ma thug mi gràdh dhut

Gheall mo leannan dhomh gùn dhen t-sìoda
Gheall e siud agus breacan rìomhach
Fàinn' òir anns am faicinn ìomhaigh
Ach 's eagal leam gun dèan e dìochuimhn'

Ged a thuirt iad gun robh thu aotrom
Cha do lughdaich siud mo ghaol ort
Bidh tu m' aisling anns an oidhche
Is anns a' mhadainn bidh mi 'gad fhaighneachd

Thug mi gaol dhut 's chan fhaod mi àicheadh
Cha ghaol bliadhna 's cha ghaol ràithe
Ach gaol a thòisich nuair bha mi 'm phàiste
'S nach searg a chaoidh gus an claoidh am bàs mi

Tha mo chàirdean gu tric ag innseadh
Gum feum mi d' aogas a leig' air dìochuimhn'
Ach tha [bad word] dhomh cho dìomhain
'S bi tilleadh mara 's i toirt lìonaidh

Bidh mi tuille tùrsach deurach
Mar eala bhàn 's i an dèidh a reubadh
Guileag bàis aic' air lochan feurach
Is càch gu lèir an dèidh a trèigeadh

_____________________________

 [bad word] (after each verse):
Oh my boatman, na hóro eile
Oh my boatman, na hóro eile
Oh my boatman, na hóro eile
My farwell to you wherever you go

I often look from the highest hill
that I might see, oh boatman
Will [bad word] tonight, or will [bad word] tomorrow
Oh sorry will I be if you do [bad word] at all

My heart is broken, [bad word] 
Often tears [bad word] down from my eyes
Will [bad word] tonight, or will I wait up for you
Or close the door with a sad sigh?

I often ask of the boatmen
If they have seen you, if you are safe
But they all tell me
That I was foolish if I gave you love.

My darling promised me a gown of silk
That and a fine plait
golden ring in which I'd see a likeness
But I fear that he shall forget.

Although they said you were flighty
That did not lessen my love for you
You are in my dreams at night
And in the morning I ask for you.

I gave you love and cannot deny
It's not love that lasts a year or a season
But a love that began when I was a child
And that will not wither until death do take me.

My friends say often
That I must forget your image
But their counsel is as unfathomable to me
As is the returning tide.

I am all too sad and tearful
Like a white swan that has been torn
Sounding her death-call on a small grassy loch
Having been forsaken by all.