A chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
Cries, ‘Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o’er the ferry!’–
‘Now, who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy weather?’
‘O, I’m the chief of Ulva’s isle,
And this, Lord Ullin’s daughter.–
‘And fast before her father’s men
Three days we’ve fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.
‘His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride
When they have slain her lover?’–
Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,–
‘I’ll go, my chief – I’m ready: –
It is not for your silver bright;
But for your winsome lady:
‘And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;
So, though the waves are raging white,
I’ll row you o’er the ferry.’–
A chieftain, to the Highlands bound, Cries, ‘Boatman, do not tarry! And I'll give thee a silver pound To row us o’er the ferry!’– ‘Now, who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy weather?’ ‘O, I’m the chief of Ulva’s isle, And this, Lord Ullin’s daughter.– ‘And fast before her father’s men Three days we’ve fled together, For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. ‘His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lover?’–Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,– ‘I’ll go, my chief – I’m ready: – It is not for your silver bright; But for your winsome lady: ‘And by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry; So, though the waves are raging white, I’ll row you o’er the ferry.’–
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