Sing me a song of a lass that is gone, Say could that lass be I?
Merry of soul she sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye.
Mull was astem, Rum on the port
Eigg on the starboard bow: Glory of youth glowed in his soul:
Where is that glory now?
Sing me a song of the lass that is gone,
Say, could that lass be I?
Merry of soul she sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.
Give me again all that was there,
Give me the sun that shone,
Give me the eyes, give me the soul,
Give me the lad that's gone.
Sing me a song of the lass that is gone,
Say, could that lass be I?
Merry of soul she sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.
Billow and breeze, islands and seas,
Mountains of rain and sun,
All that was good, all that was fair
All that was me is gone.
Sing me a song of the lass that is gone,
Say, could that lass be I?
Merry of soul she sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.

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