theirte airgead theirte taibhse
theirte gun dìon i bhon t-sùil nach iarrte
theirte gun dùisg i grian a’ chèitein
faic a cruinn àrd airgeadach
an iomadachd liath
mar phlaide thaibhsean
am barraichean mar chuan
de shumainn shiùbhlach
thar bhràighean nan gleann
’s i oighreachd gealbhuinn
sliochdmhorachd a buadh
theirte gur slat a’ ghaoil i
cuin a chunnacas crann
cho seang cho subhach
cho dìreach cho lìonmhor
leann mar loinid ann a fèithean
fìon brodach ann a fèithean
mìlseachd nam pòg ann a fèithean
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silver, it’s said a ghost, it is said
protects from the harmful eye, they say
it’ll wake the mayday sun, they say
see its tall silver poles
their multitudinous grey
like a plaid of ghosts
their branched tops make
a sea of fluid billows
on the slopes of glens
it’s the sparrow’s estate
fertility is in its gift
the tree of love, it is said
when was a mast seen
so slender so merry
so straight so copious
a froth of ale in its veins
a teasing wine in its veins
sweet sap of kisses in its veins
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