Mo-lennav-a-chree

Eilidh, Eilidh, Eilidh, dear to me, dear and sweet,

dreams I am hearing the sound of your little running feet --

The sound of your running feet that like the sea-hoofs beat

A music by day an' night, Eilidh, on the sands of my heart, my Sweet!

Eilidh, blue i' the eyes, flower-sweet as children are,

And white as the canna that blows with the hill-breast wind afar,

Whose is the light in thine eyes --the light of a star? --a star

That sitteth supreme where the starry lights of heaven a glory are!

Eilidh, Eilidh, Eilidh, put off your wee hands from the heart o' me,

It is pain they are making there, where no more pain should be:

For little running feet, an' wee white hands, an' croodlin' as of the sea,

Bring tears to my eyes, Eilidh, tears, tears, out of the heart o' me --

Mo-lennav-a-chree,

Mo-lennav-a-chree!