Colin’s Cattle. (Crodh Chaillean.)

CRO’ CHAILLEAN

A maiden sang sweetly
As a bird on a tree,
Cro’ Chaillean, Cro’ Chaillean,
Cro’ Chaillean for me!

My own Colin’s cattle,
Dappled, dun, brown, and grey,
They return to the milking
At the close of the day.

In the morning they wander
To their pastures afar,
Where the grass grows the greenest
By corrie and scaur.

They wander the uplands
Where the soft breezes blow,
And they drink from the fountain
Where the sweet cresses grow.

But so far as they wander,
Dappled, dun, brown, and grey,
They return to the milking
At the close of the day.

My bed’s in the Shian
On the canach’s soft down,
But I’d sleep best with Colin
In our shieling alone.

Thus a maiden sang sweetly
As a bird on a tree,
Cro’ Chaillean, Cro’ Chaillean,
Cro’ Chaillean for me.