Fhear a Bhata
Calling up ancestor stories and their heartfelt yearnings.
I'm often hunting the highest hilltops,
I scan the oceans, I sail the sea.
Will you come tonight, will you come tomorrow?
Wilt ever come, Love, to comfort me?
They call me fickle, they call me false one,
And seek to change me, but all in vain.
For thou art my dream, yet through the dark night,
And every morning I watch the main.
Fhear a bhata, na horo eile,
Oh, faire thee well, Love, where're ye be...
There is no Hamlet, do well I know it,
Where you go wonderin', or sit awhile.
But all its old folk, you win with talkin',
And charm its maidens with song and smile.
Fhear a bhata, na horo eile,
Oh, faire thee well, Love, where're ye be...
Dost thou remember the promise made me?
The tartan plaide, the silken gown?
That ring of gold, with head in portrait,
That golden ring I shall ne'er now own?
Fhear a bhata, na horo eile,
Oh, faire thee well, Love, where're ye be...
Meredith McFadden, vocals, keyboard; Lori Presthus, cello;
Lyrics and music, traditional Scottish air