Classic Poem

DEPARTURE OF THE 4 TH C AMERONS

The pipes in the street were playing bravely,
The marching lads went by,
With merry hearts and voices singing
My friends marched out to die;
But I was hearing a lonely pibroch
Out of an older war,
" Farewell, farewell, farewell, MacCrimmon,
MacCrimmon comes no more. "

And every lad in his heart was dreaming
Of honour and wealth to come,
And honour and noble pride were calling
To the tune of the pipes and drum;
But I was hearing a woman singing
On dark Dunvegan shore,
" In battle or peace, with wealth or honour,
MacCrimmon comes no more. "

And there in front of the men were marching,
With feet that made no mark,
The grey old ghosts of the ancient fighters
Come back again from the dark;
And in front of them all MacCrimmon piping
A weary tune and sore,
" On the gathering day, for ever and ever,
MacCrimmon comes no more. "