The Macgregor's Gathering.

The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,
And the clan has aname that is nameless by day.
Our signal for fight, which from monarchs we drew,
Must be heard but by night, in our vengeful haloo—
Then haloo, haloo, haloo, Grigalach!
If they rob us of name and pursue us with beagles,
Give their roofs to the flames, and their flesh to the eagles—
Then gather, gather, gather!
While there's leaves in the forest, and foam on the river,
Macgregor, despite them, shall flourish for ever!

Glen Orchy' s proud mountains, Coalchuirn and her towers,
Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer arc ours—
We're landless, landless, landless, Griga-lach!
Landless, landless, landless!

Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steel shall career,
O'er the peaks of Ben Lomond the galley shall steer;
And the rocks of Craig Royston like icicles melt
Ere our wrongs be forgot or our vengeance On-felt,
Then haloo, &c.
If they rob us, &c.