The Wrights and Macintyres of Clan are the same,
The Wrights are Macintyres but with Anglicised name,
Of Lorne and Glenorchy and Badenoch ground,
In all three places the Clans could be found.

Our Forefathers from Argyll were forced to depart,
But Argyll remains in their Descendants hearts,
The snow topped peak of Cruachan Ben,
Remains the same as it was back then.

The lovely white Cattle that were bred back then,
Have now all gone from the beautiful Glen,
The Chief and the Clan are there no more,
They sailed away from Loch Etive shore.

Around the Globe the Clan did then spread,
In foreign lands they all now tread,
From the Glens and Braes they had to part,
But within them beats a Highlanders heart.

From Culloden to Bannockburn some did fight,
To bring back to Scotland its own true might,
Some followed The Wallace and then The Bruce,
To win for their Country some kind of Truce.

The purple of the Heather upon the slopes,
Fills us all with pride and hopes,
Back to the Highlands the braes and Burns,
One day to Etive the Clan will return.