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As sung by Margaret MacKay

Mighean ruaidh your golden hair,
Has more glamour I declare,
Than all the tresses rare
From Killin to Aberfeldy,
Be they lint-white, gold or brown,
Be they blacker than the sloe,
They are no more worth to me,
Than a melting flake of snow.
Hi Ho Ri, Hi Ho Ro.

When I've done my work of day,
And I row my boat away,
Down the waters of Loch Tay,
When the evening light is fading,
And I look upon Ben Lawers,
Where the after glory glows,
And I dream of two bright eyes,
And a merry mouth below,
Hi Ho Ri, Hi Ho Ro.

She's my beauteous nighean ruaidh,
She's my joy and sorrow too,
But I doubt she is not true,
Yet I cannot live without her,
But my heart's a boat in tow,
And I'd give the world to know,
If she means to me go,
As I sing Ho Ri, Ho Ro. Ho Ri, Ho Ro.


Your eyes are like the gleam
Of the sunlight on the stream,
Like fair songs it seems,
The songs they sing 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 Ho Ri, Ho Ro. Ho Ri, Ho Ro.




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