Eileen a’ Cheo

by V, M. Ceres
(Manchester)

Like mists in the sun ye melt in my eye
oft I will dream of thee far far away,
heather clad land I’ll return or I’ll die

to snowy capped mountains grasping the sky
where yon eagle soars whilst stalking his prey,
like mists in the sun ye melt in my eye.

Och aye for the pipes and their plaintiff cry
for fallen and brave, they solemnly play
heather clad land I’ll return or I’ll die,

barefoot I’d run like a grouse through the rye
O, would that I were returning today,
like mists in the sun ye melt in my eye.

Living the code of the flag that I fly
with bold Scottish pride that waint wash away,
heather clad land I’ll return or I’ll die,

To lands of my birth, my beautiful Skye
to yon bonnie bank, to yon bonnie brae,
like mists in the sun ye melt in my eye
heather clad land I’ll return or I’ll die.

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