| When I’ve done my work of day
|
| And I row my boat away
|
| Doon the waters of Loch Tay
|
| As the evening light is fading
|
| And I look upon Ben Lawers
|
| Where the after glory glows;
|
| And I think on two bright eyes
|
| And the melting mouth below
|
| She’s my beauteous nighean ruadh
|
| She’s my joy and sorrow too;
|
| And although she is untrue
|
| Well I cannot live without her
|
| For my heart’s a boat in tow
|
| And I’d give the world to know
|
| Why she means to let me go
|
| As I sing horee horo
|
| Nighean ruadh, your lovely hair
|
| Has more glamour I declare
|
| Than all the tresses rare
|
| 'tween Killin and Aberfeldy
|
| Be they lint white, brown or gold
|
| Be they blacker than the sloe
|
| They are worth no more to me
|
| Than the melting flake of snow
|
| Her eyes are like the gleam
|
| O' the sunlight on the stream;
|
| And the songs the fairies sing
|
| Seem like songs she sings at milking
|
| But my heart is full of woe
|
| For last night she bade me go
|
| And the tears begin to flow
|
| As I sing horee, horo
|
| She’s my beauteous nighean ruadh
|
| She’s my joy and sorrow too
|
| And although she is untrue
|
| Well I cannot live without her
|
| For my heart’s a boat in tow
|
| And I’d give the world to know
|
| Why she means to let me go
|
| As I sing horee horo |