The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,
And our clan has a name that is nameless by day;
Then gather, gather, gather Gregalich!
Our signal for fight, which from monarchs we drew,
Must be heard but by night, in our vengeful halloo;
Then halloo, halloo, halloo, Gregalich!
Glenorchy's proud mountains, Calchurn and her towers,
Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours --
We're landless, landless, landless, Gregalich!
But doom'd and devoted by vassal and lord,
MacGregor has still both his heart and his sword;
Then courage, courage, courage, Gregalich!
Should they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles,
Give their roofs to the flames, and their flesh to the eagles.
Come then, come then, come then, Gregalich!
While there's leaves in the forest, or foam on the river,
MacGregor, despite them, shall flourish for ever;
Then gather, gather, gather, Gregalich!
Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shall career,
O'er the peaks of Ben Lomond the galley shall steer,
And the rocks of Craig Royston like icicles melt,
E'er our wrongs be forgot or our vengeance unfelt:
Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Gregalich!
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